Camp-Fire Vignettes (Chapter 1: The Meager)
by The Geordie Lass
Summary: A series of short-medium length snapshots of what is happening behind the scenes between battles with Ramza & co. This has elements of a novelisation, as it follows the canon story, however, it doesn't just retell it. Instead, it's an exploration of the characters and their relationships, with a little back-story thrown in. T-rated for mild swearing and occasional mentions of sex.
1. Chapter 1 - Lord Dycedarg Writ Small

I thought I was coming stupidly late to this party, considering the age of the game, then I mentioned it in passing to a friend who said he had it on his ipad, so maybe not! (I had no idea about the iOS version, now I'm rather indignant I can't get it on Android.)

I recently unearthed my old PSP specifically to replay this game (for the umpteenth time) and, as usual, wished that the characters got more development. So I finally got round to trying my hand at it. I'm not going to rehash the battles themselves, and I won't transcribe cut-scenes (though I might occasionally have characters discuss what occurred in a cut-scene).

I've called it "Camp-fire Vignettes" because this is snapshots of what is happening behind the scenes between those little dots on the map, often while encamped. However, not all will be at a camp-fire, and some will take place on the dots (i.e. in towns), not between them. Maybe I should have called it "inter-battle vignettes", but camp-fires just sound cosier!

Some of the idiosyncrasies of my current play-through will show up in a minor way – e.g. I decided, on a whim, that all my generics would be girls this time - but they are honestly of no significance.

Lastly, I'd really appreciate any _**constructive**_ criticism.

* * *

The Woods on the Edge of Mandalia Plain

_12 Miles from Gariland_

Ramza was nominally in charge of the expedition, but he hadn't bothered to give orders about the tasks in camp, he'd left that to Delita. Well he _had _been named as Ramza's second in command, after all, and he was far better at detail than Ramza. The six of them had set up tents, a large one for the four girls, a smaller one for the two boys. Ramza chipped in with the rest, he could be lazy about giving orders but he always tried to pull his weight, otherwise.

"It's a shame Tristan was killed, of course, but, since it wasn't permanent, I'm glad that it gave me a chance to join you, after the fact, at least." Hildegarde said to Samantha as they prepared some trout they had caught in the local stream.

Samantha only made a small noise in response, she was still brooding about the fight they'd got into that morning in Gariland. She'd been acting as team chemist and her lack of ability with phoenix downs had almost proved permanently fatal to her friend, Tristan. If they hadn't managed to get the boy back to the Akademy in time to be Raised, Samantha would have never have forgiven herself – she still wasn't sure she could. What had possessed her to concentrate on mastering the use of antidotes and not something that would _reverse_ _death? _ She vowed to herself that by the time she was next assigned as the team's official chemist she would have mastered the skill.

"What bothers me," Delita said to Ramza, from where he was building their camp-fire, "is what they were thinking attacking half a dozen armed people in the middle of the city. I know we were ordered to patrol the slums to search for them, but still, they could have run - supposedly the Brigade's people aren't stupid – logically, they should have seen we weren't exactly easy pickings and legged it. Something's off about that."

Ramza gave his friend a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated.

"You always imagine there's intrigue going on, Delita. As you said, we were walking through the slums and well dressed - they probably imagined that we _were_ easy pickings. Exactly what the man said - "wee moppets" with brimming purses, so they decided to take the risk. They were brigands, after all, and damned fools, as it turned out."

"You're probably right, I'm just jumpy, with the political situation as it is." Delita said.

"Who cares about politics? We're a bunch of sixteen-year-old cadets - no-one's going to let us play their games. We're just going to be stuck up on the battlements of Eagrose Castle for a few weeks, then we go back to the Akademy. That fight in the back alleys of Garliand is more excitement than we'll ever see once we're home. If you ask me, it's all going to be terribly dull and if anyone is politicking, it's not as though we'll even get to hear about it." Ramza said.

Delita sighed; Ramza frustrated him sometimes.

"You're probably right. I know I keep saying it, but you have the family connections to actually make a difference, it's a crime that you aren't more politically-minded."

Ramza rolled his eyes at his friend.

"You're intrigued enough by it for both of us. I'll tell you what. When we're both too old to swing a sword, I'll start dabbling in politics and you can be my éminence grise, sorry, _political advisor_, much in the way Dycedarg is for the Duke. Only, given that neither of us is particularly important, it will have to be on a rather less ambitious scale."

Both studied strategy, tactics, military and political history, but whereas Delita's bent was definitely political, Ramza dreamt of having the talent to live up to his family name. With the towering martial reputations of his father and brothers it was a lot to ask of himself; he hoped fervently that he wouldn't fail - and feared terribly that he would.

"Lord Dycedarg, writ small. Now I have my life's ambition all worked out." Delita muttered.

"What do you mean by that?" Ramza said. Although his tone challenged Delita, he was genuinely confused as to exactly what the other boy _could_ mean.

"Nothing. I'm not deriding your noble Lord Brother, so don't sound so annoyed. Perhaps I just think that one day I'd like to change my false nobleman's garb for the robes of someone with _real_ power." Delita shook his head as if to clear it.

"Oh, lets forget it, we're out on our own, totally independent for a couple of days until we get to Eagrose. I don't know why we're even getting into a dispute." Delita added.

Always happy to make peace, Ramza got to his feet, raising his voice a little.

"Lets all go for a swim – it's warm for the time of year and I noticed a bit of a pool just down from where we caught the fish."

Delita and the girls just looked at him.

"Nope." Juliana eventually said in a very definite tone. "I know you tend to be a bit clueless about girls, Ramza, but the four of us are definitely _not _about to casually strip to our shifts in front of you two and go for a dip."

"You don't know what you're missing." Delita said to her, with a grin on his face.

Juliana gave him an assessing look. He wasn't necessarily the better looking of the two boys - that was up for debate - but he was both taller and broader.

"Maybe if it was just the two of us..." She said with an arch smile, then blushed and ducked her head. The two had been flirting for months - Ramza wasn't sure if they'd ever done more than flirt.

"Fine, fine." He said. "Do you four want to swim? If you do, I promise Delita and I will wait and have a swim after you've finished." Most of the girls said they would but Samantha just shook her head without speaking. Ramza hunkered down next to her, speaking low.

"The important part is that we were still in time to get him revived and you are determined not to let it happen again. Try to stop thinking about it so much. We make mistakes then we have to move on and make sure that we don't make the same ones again."

It was more than the Beoulve name that had placed Ramza in charge of this little squad, he had the confidence and many of the innate skills to be a good leader.

"I know you're right, but we were so close to losing him forever - a few more seconds even..." Samantha shivered.

Ramza put a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder; he could sympathise - their first ever fight involving real deaths, today, had shaken him too.

"But we didn't. Go on. Go for a swim with the others. It'll be fun – help you take your mind off it."

* * *

Ramza dreamed he was back at his father's death-bed that night. He woke in a cold sweat and stumbled out of the tent. Delita should have been on watch, but he was nowhere to be seen. Ramza sat staring into the fire, which was very low. He heard a twig snap behind him, and Delita came up.

"Where have you been?" Ramza asked sharply.

"Collecting more firewood." Delita said, dumping an armload of branches.

"Oh. Sorry." Ramza pushed his mop of hair out of his eyes. "I didn't mean to make it sound like an accusation."

"You were put in charge, you have the right to question your subordinates." Was there a hint of stiffness in Delita's voice? No - that was silly, wasn't it?

"You know it isn't like that, I don't think of you as my "subordinate". I'm sorry; I dreamed about my father dying again, I'm just a bit on edge. Look, I won't get back to sleep, so I may as well take over the watch early if you want to get to bed." He'd noticed Delita try to hide a couple of yawns while he'd been speaking.

Delita leaned forward to put another branch on the fire and Ramza heard a spitting noise as if water had fallen to the stones that they had used to bake the trout.

"Is your hair _dripping_?"

"Er... well yes. I'm sorry... You weren't wrong to question me. Juliana invited me to go for a moonlight swim with her... I know I shouldn't have while I was supposed to be on watch and I apologise."

Ramza just shook his head. He knew he could be a little prudish, but he had been made conscious of his illegitimacy, early in life, and that led him to be rather more conservative about sexual matters than most of his friends. It was a heavy stigma in their society and he was very aware that he never wanted to burden a child with it himself. Especially as he was unlikely to ever have the influence his father had, which meant he wouldn't have the highly unorthodox option of having papers drawn up to be signed by the king legitimating his bastard children. Staying chaste was better... if more frustrating.

"Hey don't look at me like that. _She_ asked _me_..."

"Don't worry about it." Ramza said, a little stiffly. "Like I said, I'll take over the watch now."

He was far closer to Delita than to his own brothers, but like close siblings they weren't without their differences.

* * *

Author's Note:

Delita doesn't spring Athena-like from Zeus's head, as a consummate political schemer later in the game. I didn't pick up on it during my very first play-through, but in Chapter 1, he always knows more about what's going on in the world, and who the political participants are than the other cadets, e.g. he knows who all the major players in the Corpse Brigade are, while Ramza's pretty much clueless.

I haven't worked out where Delita gets some of his info (e.g. how does he know that Duke Larg and the Marquis de Limberry are coming to Gariland in the scene at the Akademy? Maybe he's been listening at doors, maybe he's been sneaking into pubs to listen to the local rumours.) Anyway, I hope I didn't lay the "Delita's a political animal" on too thick. I'll try not to be too heavy-handed with it in future.

Lastly, I originally tried to emulate the game's Olde English dialogue... and failed. I want them to sound like intelligent sixteen-year-olds, not crusty sixty-year-olds. So I copped out.


	2. Chapter 2 - Judging Too Harshly?

Between Mandalia Plain and Eagrose

"No Argath! No matter how much you argue, we will _not_ be pressing on tonight. I am not travelling in the dark when we could be attacked and never see it coming. We're still about three hours from Eagrose. We'll leave at first light and be there by mid-morning, at worst." Ramza held up a hand when the other young man made as if to speak again.

"I said no! We are not putting ourselves and the rest of the team in jeopardy because you think you can get an army from my brothers, to ride out at your back, this very night. They'll listen to what you have to say but I'm sorry to tell you that it will be _they_ that decide how to proceed in this, not you. Besides, a few hours, which will hopefully allow us to stay unmolested by bandits and fiendish creatures, will not make much difference. Ten-to-one Dycedarg will already know all about it when we get there and will have made plans."

Dycedarg's ability to know about _everything_, very soon after had happened, sometimes seemed uncanny. Ramza saw the other blond boy open his mouth again. The stubborn look on Argath's face said this was not going to be acquiescence. He jumped in again.

"No, I have listened to you maunder on about this for nigh on half an hour I will not listen to another word!"

Ramza stalked off, away from the road and, after a moment, Delita followed him. Ramza leant against a tree inspecting the silhouette of the toe of one boot in the near-dark as if it fascinated him.

"Was I too harsh?" He asked.

"No... well perhaps a _little_; he's had a hard day, after all. I can't fault you, though, it did have to be said."

Delita was just glad that the argument, which had seemed interminable had finally been ended. He'd have had a lot less patience than Ramza with Argath.

"Who does he think he is, telling me what we must and mustn't do for him?" Ramza said.

Delita knew Ramza was trying terribly hard to be the perfect Cadet-Captain, something about the incongruence of that and the slightly petulant indignation of that last question made him smile. Thinking more about Argath made his smile drop quickly.

"There's something not quite... right about him, I admit." Delita said, after a moment's consideration. "He's so _intense_ about everything. I mean, he's ambitious, that's as obvious as the sun, and I'd guess he's hitched his wagon to the Marquis so closely that he thinks he has nothing left if anything happens to the man.

"Be careful of him, if he thinks his ambitions can be more easily realised with Beoulve rather than Elmdore help, you'll find him a difficult one to be rid of, I imagine."

Delita had how own ambitions, so he could, sort of, sympathise with Argath. However, his attachment to the Beoulve family was genuine - his affection for its youngest two members as strong, more or less, as that for his sister - he would never just use them to gain what he wanted. Though, if an opportunity presented itself that Lords Zalbaag or Dycedarg could help him with... maybe, he wasn't so different from Argath, after all.

"I don't necessarily need to be "rid" of him, totally - he was handy in the fight today, after all. I just want him to calm down and back off a bit... Maybe I'm being unfair, maybe he's just very loyal to the Marquis." Ramza didn't sound entirely convinced of that, himself.

"Perhaps." Delita's voice held no conviction.

"But you don't think it's likely do you?"

"No."

The stars were unusually bright that evening, which meant that there was just enough light for Delita to see Ramza shrug.

"Then, will you do me a favour and keep an eye on him, please? As you suggest, he may see befriending me as a way to try to gain favour with my brothers. I probably should do as you say and be careful around him."

"Don't worry about it. I would have kept an eye anyway - there's something about him I just don't trust." Delita couldn't have said what, other than the other boy's over-eagerness had prompted that reaction in him, but something about Argath just niggled at him.

"We're being too hasty, I'm sure. We shouldn't judge him like this." Ramza said.

"We're being realistic, Ramza. If we're wrong, then we may find, in time, that we have another friend, one who we misjudged at first. If we're right, then he isn't someone who either of us should _ever_ fully trust. It's sensible to be a little cautious. Let's go back."

Delita headed for the campfire, where a silence reigned. The other four cadets weren't looking at Argath, the silence was distinctly uncomfortable. Ramza trudged after his friend. He glanced at Argath and thought he could almost see waves of frustration coming off the boy.

"I'm sorry for my rudeness before, Argath, but you already lost several comrades today, as I understand it. I won't do _anything_ to increase the risk losing mine."

"I understand. It's just very hard to feel so helpless." Argath replied in a sullen monotone.

"Yes, it must be." Ramza could afford a little sympathy now the argument had been won, but he didn't feel inclined to give too much.

There was none of the cheerfulness of the previous night, which had been rather fun, especially once Samantha had roused herself, a little, from her black mood. Tonight, they set up the tents, lit a fire and had a meagre supper, before splitting watches and retiring almost immediately.

* * *

Author's Note:

I'm failing in my personal goals for this piece, first I can't maintain the Olde English, now, I wanted to justify Argath saying "Are we not friends?" to Ramza during the fight with Delita after Tietra's kidnapped, but I can't make myself make Ramza (or Delita) like him. Maybe Argath will just have to be a self-deluding idiot about it, instead.


	3. Chapter 3 - An Evening's Picnic

The game has the team run straight off to Dorter at this point, but I wanted a reason for Ramza and Delita to interact with their sisters for a bit...

* * *

Eagrose

"Gods rot him, I don't know if I can tolerate him all the way to Dorter and back!" Ramza said as he opened Delita's door.

That afternoon, after Zalbaag had "not" given them their assignment, the boys had dashed off, but the rest of the team had already been given the afternoon off and it had taken too long to round them all up. By the time they were ready to go, it was already evening. All they could do was double-check that everything was prepared for an immediate departure at first light.

_Again_ Ramza had found himself confronted by Argath demanding that they risk themselves travelling by night. This time Ramza had simply told him he wasn't prepared to discuss it. He'd headed to Delita's room, wanting to vent his frustrations. Tietra and Alma were there before him and his clouded face suddenly cleared.

"So, you two, is it a banquet tonight?" His brother Dycedarg frequently entertained his political allies and "friendly" rivals.

"No, Dycedarg's up at the main castle with the Duke, and Zalbaag left straight after we saw him, so the four of us are having a picnic." Alma said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Picnic? It started raining a short while ago, and besides it'll be full dark very soon." Ramza said.

"Which is why it's all laid out in the nursery." Tietra said with a sweet smile. "_Please_, it'll be fun."

"I haven't been up to the nursery since you two moved out a couple of years ago. I suppose it might be fun at that." Ramza said, returning Tietra's smile.

"I've arranged for your friends to have a good dinner served to them, so you needn't worry about them." Alma said.

"My, my, just fifteen and already the consummate lady of the house." Ramza said, earning a glare.

"Well at least _I_ actually bother to think about the practicalities of life." Alma replied, waspishly.

Ramza ignored her totally, as only a brother could.

"Since it's the nursery, shall we make it a race then?" He said, grinning at Delita.

Both boys ran out of the room as if the hounds of hell were on their heels, Delita grabbing at Ramza and shoving himself in front as they reached the door.

The two girls watched in bemusement; before they'd hit their teens, racing to get wherever they were going had been a usual pastime for the two boys, but it had been some time since they'd done it and it was a little strange to see what were, to all intents and purposes, two fully-grown men jostling in the doorway like a pair of naughty children.

"Well at least we know they'll never really change." Alma said to Tietra, rolling her eyes. The girls picked up their skirts and followed at a more sedate pace.

* * *

"So... tell me _all_ about school." Delita said in a deceptively casual tone to his sister. He was lounging on the floor and popped the last piece of a venison pasty into his mouth as he finished speaking. The other three all suddenly realised that what Tietra had said earlier in the day hadn't fooled her brother.

"What about it? I go, I try to be good at my lessons, I come home." Even to her own ears Tietra sounded defensive.

Alma glanced, slightly apprehensively, at Ramza from where she sat, perched side-saddle, on the old rocking-chocobo. She and Tietra had planned to have a nice evening with the brothers they saw so seldom - this wasn't part of that plan.

"And you'd tell me if you weren't happy, _of course_, wouldn't you?" Even if there was sarcasm in the tone there was no doubt about the protective brother predominating.

"If there was anything to tell, I would." Tietra said, almost primly.

Delita just grunted at that.

"Rubbish! You always did keep your own counsel too much when you were unhappy."

"I haven't seen you in months, so why are you being so grumpy? I said it's fine, it _is!_" Tietra said.

Delita glanced at Alma, then subsided when he saw that her glare was even fiercer than Tietra's.

"When did the old instruments get moved up here?" Ramza asked, trying to break the tension between the other pair of siblings. He went over and opened the lid of the clavichord and played a few arpeggios.

"Lord Dycedarg got us a new harpsichord to replace this as well as a full-sized harp." Tietra said, coming over with a grateful smile, placing her hand on the clavichord's case. She was very glad to have a reason to escape her brother's brooding looks.

"So these got relegated to the nursery? Well I suppose if Dycedarg ever marries again and has children, this time, it would make sense." Dycedarg was so much older than his two half-siblings that he'd been married around the time that Ramza had been born. Unfortunately, he'd been widowed shortly after Alma's birth, eleven months later.

"Even if he doesn't, Zalbaag might get married. We could be bridesmaids, Tietra, wouldn't that be lovely?" Alma said, enthusiastically picking up on what Ramza had thought of as a passing comment. The boys looked at the girls uncomprehendingly.

"Are either of them even courting a particular woman?" Ramza asked, still perplexed.

"Not that I know of." Alma said. "Why are you looking like that? _You_ brought up our brother marrying, and truth to tell, it's past time that he did - Father's been dead these three years past. Dycedarg has to have an heir, you know."

"Zalbaag's his heir." Ramza supposed _he _was also an heir... of sorts. Even after a royal decree, his and Alma's legitimacy was shaky, so it was probably best neither ever thought of themselves as potential heirs. Their distant cousins who, without Ramza, would be second and third in line to the title, would probably fight his ever inheriting.

"Well one of them has to start producing legitimate children soon, for the succession." Alma said with finality.

"Suppose so." Ramza said, deeply uninterested.

"Try not to sound so fascinated, Brother dear." Alma replied sarcastically.

"Just grin and bear it, Ramza, the girls can't help it, they seem to just be naturally enthralled by the whole idea of love, marriage and babies these days." Delita said rolling his eyes. "Strictly speaking, though, they have a point. A strong noble house is a one with a secure line of succession. Three unmarried brothers isn't the way of stability."

"Well I'll arrange my wedding for this summer, shall I? Of course, I don't have a prospective wife, unless Tietra wants to. You _did_ promise to marry me one day, when you were... seven, after all." He grinned at her.

Ramza had been rather taken with the tiny dark little girl when she and Delita had first come to live with them. Gradually, the novelty had worn off and she's just become like a second sister, more or less. Tietra smiled at him, though she blushed slightly too.

"If it's all right with you, Ramza, I think that may be a promise I'll have to break."

"Since we're reliving our childhood in the nursery tonight, let's go out on the roof and look for shooting stars." Alma said, suddenly.

"It's raining. Difficult to see the stars through clouds." Ramza said.

"Not any more." Alma said.

"The roof will still be wet." Delita put in.

"What happened to you two?" Alma asked, pursing her lips. "You actually sound like _adults_, and Tietra and I thought neither of you would ever grow up." Ramza ignored that and, throwing up the sash, stuck his head out of a window.

"Still fairly cloudy, overhead." He said. Alma looked genuinely disappointed. "We'll check again in half an hour." He added, because he hated to see her upset, even over the silliest things.

Having let cool air into the room, they poked the fire and settled down to play a few parlour games, forgetting about searching for shooting stars or the earlier bickering.

After what felt like only a few minutes of telling all about what had happened in their lives since they had seen each other a couple of months before, the boys suddenly realised it was approaching midnight and they were supposed to be leaving at first light. Each hugged his own sister, then the other's, and they went down to their rooms to get what sleep they could.

* * *

Still in the nursery, the two girls seemed almost reluctant to leave the trappings of childhood behind again.

"You shouldn't have lied to him, you know." Alma said quietly.

"You know how Delita is..."

"I didn't mean to Delita. I meant that you'd love to keep that promise you made when you were seven."

Tietra blushed at that.

"That's rubbish, Alma, and you know it! Besides, even if that were true, I'm only fifteen and Ramza doesn't even think of me like that, and I couldn't marry into your family, even if I wanted to... which I _don't_, and your brothers would throw fits."

Alma grinned at Tietra's babbling.

"Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?"

"Oh _shut up_ Alma! I'm just _tired_... I'm going to bed!"

As Alma watched her friend leave the room, her grin suddenly turned into a thoughtful expression.

* * *

Author's Note:

What portrayal of the relationships between these four there _is_, in the game, is a bit too idealised for my taste. They're a group of four teenagers who've been brought up as siblings, so for me, they're close, but they also need to bicker and wind each other up. In short, _act_ like brothers and sisters.

For info, in my head-canon, Dycedarg's brief arranged marriage was very unhappy. There was fault on both sides – it was a good match, socially and politically, so Dycedarg went ahead with it, but he didn't really want to be married so young and wasn't particularly attracted to her. She found him cold and felt he made no effort to make the marriage work, hence after a few months of unsuccessfully trying to gain some sign of affection from him she sought consolation with another man. She died, after a brief illness, just after their first anniversary... Suspicious fungus appeared on her grave some weeks later... Anyway, I couldn't bring any of that in here because none of these four characters know anything about that.

Last thing - I know that the game calls their home the "Beoulve Manse", but since a "Manse" is the house provided for a Scottish Presbyterian Minister by the Church of Scotland, I decided to call it the "Beoulve Mansion" instead. Hope that doesn't annoy anyone.


	4. Chapter 4 - Argath's Ambitions

Mandalia Plain

Just before dark, they had been set upon by a group of fiendish red panthers and goblins. Having taken injuries, they'd been forced to set up camp not a hundred yards from where they had fought and Ramza thought he could smell blood as they sat around the fire. Then he realised that of course he could, and it was his own, which had earlier soaked his sleeve and hadn't yet fully dried.

He was sipping a potion as he munched on his evening's dried rations, and was watching the gash on his arm gradually close as he did. Observing the rapid healing process when drinking a potion had always interested him; Delita called it a morbid fascination. This was his second potion of the evening; he suddenly remembered how he'd got the first one.

"Argath, thank-you for passing me the potion in the fight, I think it would have been a phoenix down for me, otherwise." He said. He still might not fully trust the other boy, but Argath had fought well and he'd helped more than just Ramza with a potion at an opportune moment.

"How did you end up as an apprentice in the Marquis' household, anyway? After what you said about your grandfather, yesterday, it must have been quite an achievement to gain a place in the household of your Province's liege lord." Ramza wanted very much for all seven of them to get along, but he didn't know much about Argath at all. Perhaps if he got to know Argath better he might start to like him a little more.

"My mother, while she was dying, appealed to her cousins to take me in and help me along in life. They're influential people at the Limberry Court. They agreed to do it if I would keep a certain... distance between myself and my father.

"My father has spent his life trying to clear my grandfather's name, but the evidence against my grandfather appears incontrovertible... to everyone _except_ my father. His actions have left the name of Thadalfus not only still in disgrace, but an even greater embarrassment to hold – he's seen not only as the son of a traitor but a quixotic fool for his inability to see the truth in front of his face!

"Anyway... my cousins found me a place as a page at the Marquis' court, when I was eleven, and I have worked hard, ever since, to dissociate myself from the stain on my family.

"Only Fovoham and Gallione have Military Akademies, you know. The Lesalian's usually send their children to one or the other, but in Limberry, like Lionel and Zeltennia, we still apprentice ourselves first as a page, then a squire in some more important knight or Noble's household. It was a great privilege to be given a place with the Marquis." Argath paused, sighing deeply.

"If anything happens to him, I lose what little advancement I've gained for myself over the past five years."

It was a story that seemed strange to Ramza; he had always idolised his father, he could not imagine trading a father's love and honour for position and a chance solely for one's own glory. It seemed like an ignoble way to behave and he'd begun to notice just how touchy Argath was about his oh-so-Noble background.

On changing watch around midnight, Delita and Ramza quietly discussed Argath's story, Delita accurately summing up the feelings of both he and Ramza.

"It may make me understand him a little better but it doesn't make me like or trust him any more than I did."

* * *

Author's Note:

I know that if they've just fought a battle on Mandalia Plain, at this point in the game, Argath wasn't involved, it was just a random one, but since I am loath to get too mired in game-mechanics, I can't think of a reason why he and Delita would really just sit around navel-gazing while the others were being attacked.

The whole Argath handing out potions really comes from the next story battle. I had about a dozen potions going into that, and came out of it with none and it was an easy, fairly quick fight (and no-one had Auto-potion yet, either). Argath and Delita both had "items" in their second ability slot and were kind enough to go around supplying themselves and the others with potions willy-nilly, when anyone had only lost perhaps 10 or 12 hp and weren't in any danger (I don't think either of them did anything else all battle). The AI just likes to err on the side of caution, I guess, which isn't a bad trait, it's just a bit expensive at this point in the game.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Farm Boy and the Bastard

Gariland

"We'll stop at our barracks tonight. I'll speak to the Headmaster and explain about you, Argath. All of the other fourth-years are at Eagrose, so there will be no problem in finding you a bed in the dormitories." Ramza was speaking as they entered the city of Gariland's West Gate. He thought a moment.

"Actually, can you do that, Delita, please? I have that purse that Zalbaag left for me to improve the quality of our kit. He said what the Akademy supplies isn't adequate. I thought I'd see if any of the shops are still open. I did get us all better swords and daggers at Eagrose but the armour here is more suited to our needs."

"I'll try, but you know how the Headmaster is with me, he refers to me as the "farm boy" to my face. Gods know what he calls me behind my back!"

"The Headmaster's a prejudiced old man. So what if you're low-born?" Ramza saw Argath turn and study Delita with an indefinable expression.

"Says the boy whose father was the second most important man in Gallione."

"And my mother was every bit as low-born as yours." He lowered his voice. "I wish you'd stop being like this with me. Do I ever make you feel like you are less than me? If I ever have, I'm heartily sorry for it."

"Forget it." Delita's voice was clipped, but he hadn't answered the question, which made Ramza wonder. Did he unconsciously do things that emphasised his and Delita's difference in status?

"Hildegard... no, hang on... Ophellia, can _you_ take Argath and speak to the Headmaster, please. Delita, are you coming with me or going with them?" Delita sighed, he supposed that at least Ramza had realised he was right about the Headmaster and changed the task to the fellow squire with the highest social rank. It would make things go smoother with the class-conscious Headmaster of the Akademy. He _hated_ that it had to be like that!

"I'll come with you; if you really are buying enough kit for everyone, you'll need help carrying it."

The party split. Delita and Ramza headed down a quiet side street.

"_Do_ I make you feel like I think you are less than me?" Ramza had gripped Delita's shoulder and halted him.

"Not usually, and never deliberately, of course. Mostly it's just my tendency to be over-sensitive about the fact that I _am_ a farm boy, only dressed up in a lordling's trappings." Delita began to turn away, but Ramza's grip on his shoulder tightened.

"Delita, you are one of the three people I love most in this world. Much as I respect, even love them, you are far more to me than either of my own brothers. _Promise_ me that if I ever do anything to insult or injure you, you'll tell me immediately." Ramza's voice was intense.

"All right, but no need to get so damned serious about it. I'll tell you from now on when you're being the arrogant young lord, okay?"

"Okay." Ramza grinned and the two young men hugged for a moment.

"I don't do it _that_ often, right?" Ramza's grin didn't fade.

"Never more than half a dozen times in a day." Delita said with a straight face. Ramza glanced at him, looked away, glanced back, his smile dropped.

"You mean that! Delita, I..." He didn't know what to say. Delita sighed.

"'_Course_ I don't. Ramza, I just told you to stop being so serious. Now you're being an idiot as well as serious!"

"I'm not an_ idiot_!" Ramza punched Delita's shoulder.

"Not _all_ the time... Just most of it!" Delita grinned at his friend.

"I'll show you _idiot_!" Ramza grabbed Delita and got him in a headlock. The two young men progressed down the street more wrestling than walking, though laughing while they they reached the more populous areas of Gariland, they broke apart, straightened clothes and wandered along, still grinning broadly.

If the Headmaster found out that they had been seen scuffling together in public, they would be read a lecture about their immature behaviour bringing disrepute to the school, and they'd both heard that one a few times already. Neither much cared about the Headmaster's opinions, but they also didn't want to have to be bothered with another recitation.

* * *

"Ramza, did you see Argath's face this evening when you said I was lowborn?" Delita asked.

It was late and Ramza and Delita were in bed in their shared room in the barracks. They'd blown their candles out but it was stiflingly hot for Spring and neither could sleep.

"Yes."

Delita waited for what felt like hours for more of a response.

"_And?_" He finally burst out.

"I was hoping you hadn't noticed. It was a strange look, certainly, but I was already having difficulty knowing what to make of him. I'm not going to borrow trouble. Who knows, maybe it was nothing, maybe he was just constipated, it was that sort of expression!" Ramza said, grinning, unseen.

"Don't make jokes. Don't make light of this sort of prejudice!"

The hurt in Delita's voice made Ramza regret his feeble attempt at humour.

"I don't mean to make light of it, but we aren't absolutely certain that that look meant _anything_. I know you think that I'm privileged and I know nothing of prejudice, but I've occasionally felt it.

"I remember walking into father's study when I was little and Dycedarg saying "and here's one of the bastard half-breed whelps now!" He'd been having a row with father, and I think he assumed I wouldn't know what he was saying. I didn't, but I never forgot the words and the tone, and once I was old enough to know what he meant I've always wondered if he still feels that way, deep down."

Actually, Ramza thought, he tried _not_ to wonder about it. He'd rather just believe that either his brother had been speaking out of temper, or believe that it was a long time ago and Dycedarg had changed his mind in the intervening years.

"I'm sorry, as unpleasant as that was, it simply isn't the same. I can become every bit as good a man as you can, better than Argath, I'll warrant... or Dycedarg for that matter. I have as much honour, as much bravery, so why does the class I was born into always have to be seen as so damned important?" Delita said.

"I wish we could change that, too. Maybe when we are older..." Ramza said.

"I hope so. I want to live in a world where everyone is treated fairly. Why should that be so hard to achieve?" Delita asked, though he already knew the answer.

They were quiet for a few moments, before Delita went on in a different tone, remembering Ramza's earlier comment:

"Hmm. Why was Dycedarg rowing with your father, to say such things so openly? Do you remember?"

"I don't know, I was very little. We were living at the Mansion, though, which means it was after father married mother, so I must have been at least five.

"Maybe the row was about the legitimation, if Dycedarg opposed it, that would explain why he said what he did." Ramza said.

Delita thought about that. To him that didn't make sense - once Ramza's father had eventually married his mother, it would have made sense for the whole family to support the legitimation of their children, it minimised any scandal attached to the Beoulve name.

"One hell of a thing for Dycedarg to say to your father. I never knew they argued like that."

"Usually, it was about Dycedarg's and father's definition of honour. Dycedarg thought that what he felt was best for House Beoulve should take precedence over father doing what he felt was the right and honourable thing. I don't think they clashed frequently; it's not as if the Beoulve family honour and father's personal honour could have been in opposition _too_ often." Ramza said.

"An interesting one, your eldest brother. I'm sure he'll always do whatever is best for the House - in fact, that goes without saying - but I think he could be terribly ruthless if that was what it needed." Delita said

"I fear so. I also fear that "interesting" is _not_ the word you'd like to use. Perhaps you are right. I honour and respect Dycedarg, but he's hardly been a loving brother to us has he?"

Delita suddenly began to laugh. His voice, when he spoke was affectionate.

"Oh Ramza, you always say "us", as if Tietra and I really were brother and sister to you and Alma."

"It's the way we grew up isn't it? It just seems right to say it that way." Ramza's voice was matter-of-fact.

"To you, perhaps. I doubt Dycedarg, or even Zalbaag would ever say it."

"I suppose not. Zalbaag's terribly fond of you and Tietra, though."

"Be honest, Zalbaag's terribly fond of _Tietra -_ difficult not to be."

It was dark enough that Ramza couldn't see Delita, but he could hear the smile in his voice and imagine the affectionate look on his face.

"I think he likes me well enough, but I don't think it goes further than that." Delita said.

"Well, since he got home permanently from the war eighteen months ago, Tietra's been living in the mansion the whole time and you and I have been here mostly. He's bound to end up fonder of her than you, in those circumstances." Ramza said.

"No need to try to console me, I don't have quite the same level of big-brother-worship that you have for him."

Ramza felt certain that Delita was grinning at him.

"He was made the General for the whole Order's armies when he was only twenty-five. Difficult not to feel pretty proud of having him for a big brother in those circumstances." Ramza said.

"And Dycedarg will soon be the main political advisor to the Regent of little King Orinus, if the rumours about King Ondoria not being long for this world are true. You have one hell of a lot to live up to, my friend!" Delita said.

"I know it." Ramza sounded dispirited at the thought.

"I was only _joking_. Ramza, you will do well at whatever you choose, I'm certain of it, but you don't have to turn yourself into a copy of one of your brothers to make your mark on the world."

Delita was sorry to have said it, he knew how much the thought that he might never live up to his brothers bothered Ramza.

"Alma keeps saying something similar." Ramza said with a half-laugh.

"Well listen to her then; your sister's like me, she has both feet on the ground. You and Tietra might enjoy going around with your heads in the clouds, but Alma and I are the practical ones, we see how things have to be." Delita said.

"I _know_ it. That's why I always listen to the pair of you.

"Oh, how did we end up having such a deep and serious conversation. We should both be asleep!" Ramza had heard the distant striking of the clock on the front of the nearby Merchant's Guild. Then he thought he heard Delita get out of his bed.

"I'm still wide awake, I was thinking of going for a walk."

"Want company?" Ramza asked. He didn't think he'd get to sleep straight away either.

"Y-e-s, but I was thinking of someone prettier. Juliana's room-mate is still at Eagrose."

Delita got up and began to put his clothes back on.

"What, no censorious comments?" Delita asked.

"It's your life, just... don't get her pregnant, okay?" Ramza said, tone neutral.

"It hasn't got _quite_ that far yet, though I'm optimistic for tonight." Delita said cheerfully.

"Yeah, well. Have fun." The last two words didn't exactly sound as if Ramza meant them.

Ten minutes later Ramza was becoming breathless from laughing at a very chastened Delita.

"Sounds like you were _really _subtle, Delita!" There could be no doubt about the sarcasm oozing from Ramza's voice.

"Yeah, well... so she said that as seduction techniques went, waking a girl from a sound sleep who was exhausted because she'd been marching all day and had marched and fought yesterday, as well, was one that was guaranteed to fail." Delita confided sheepishly.

"She also said that being obvious about the fact that I'd only come to see her because I was feeling randy and wide awake was less than flattering. She told me that if I couldn't sleep she recommended a cup of hot milk and a good book."

Ramza heard Delita's boots hit the floor as he began to undress again.

"And you always tell me _I'm_ the one who's clueless with girls. Tomorrow, it sounds like you'd be better trying your grovelling techniques than your seduction techniques, if you ever want to get back into her good books."

Delita would quite often tease Ramza about his shyness around girls. He had to admit to himself, that being the one to wind Delita up about women, for a change, gave him a certain satisfaction.

"Hmph! Maybe you're right." Delita said.

"And maybe she is - about the warm milk. Do you want some? I thought I might go down to the kitchens."

"You can be _such_ a big girl! Bring me something alcoholic if there's anything in the back of the pantry."

"Oh _yeah _- because the cooks are going to leave _that_ around for any of us cadets to sneak in and take! Also, I'm _not_ a big girl - you're just getting childish because you aren't nearly as skilled with women as you like to pretend." Ramza was laughing slightly again.

"And you shouldn't mock someone whose heart could be broken, for all you know." Delita said resentfully.

"Delita, I'm not stupid. Your heart was definitely _not_ the organ that was involved with what you wanted from Juliana tonight. I'm not surprised she threw you out!" He pulled on his breaches under his nightshirt.

"So do you want milk or not?" He asked Delita.

"No. You and your bloody milk!"

* * *

Author's Note:

I know that there's some Ramza/Delita shipping for this game, but that's not the way I'm heading with this, even though Ramza told Delita how much he loves him (hopefully, it was implicit that he was saying that he loves Alma and Tietra just as much). They have all four become unusually close in the years since the death of Delita's parents and that has only intensified since the deaths of Ramza's parents as well - he was just expressing that.


	6. Chapter 6 - Moogles and Their History

The Siedge Weald

_35 miles from Gariland_

The seven sat around a large campfire. It was drizzling slightly, and so they kept feeding the fire to ensure it didn't get low enough to fizzle out in the damp. The drizzle was not as unpleasant as it might have been with the heat of the fire to continuously help to dry them.

"Go on then, Delita, you're the one with the fascination for history. Tell us about the moogles that supposedly lived in these parts." Samantha said.

Delita looked blank and Ramza started to laugh.

"Ask him about the murder of some King of Romanda two centuries ago, Sam, and he could tell you all of the manoeuvring that lead to it and the repercussions that were still being felt twenty years later. Don't ask him about something as non-political as _moogles_."

"For your information, you _ignoramus_, Romanda had a revolution a little over two hundred years ago which led to the formation of a Republic, which lasted for nearly thirty years. They _exiled_ their King, they didn't murder him. When the tide turned back to favour the royal family, the republican system formed the basis..."

Delita's voice was changing from disgruntled to didactic. Ramza let his head fall dramatically to Ophellia's shoulder. Closing his eyes he made exaggerated snoring noises until he was hit on the ear by a stick that Delita threw at him.

"Fine, _be_ as thick as a plank all of your life. I doubt very much that you can tell us anything more than I can about moogles." Delita said.

"_Actually_, Delita, Father once told me and the girls that a lot of the relics they've uncovered in the last few decades in Goug, in Lionel Province, are thought to have been built by moogles. He said Goug was probably the moogles' capital. It has a good natural harbour, which is why humans built over the moogles' tunnels within a few years of them abandoning it, or becoming extinct, or whatever it was that happened to them – no-one knows for certain." Ramza said.

"Where was I, then, when he was telling the three of you this?" His friend asked indignantly.

"Take a wild guess. I don't remember, for sure, but I'm betting you were in the stables mucking out, having been naughty, _yet_ _again_." That had been Delita's usual punishment, growing up. There was always plenty to do, with all the chocobos his father had owned.

"Oh, yes! As if you were such a bloody _angel!_" Delita said.

"Do you want to benefit from my vast moogle-related knowledge or not?" Ramza's asked, smiling serenely.

"I'm betting that's all you know!" Delita's tone had a bite that Ramza's relaxed teasing didn't.

"What's got you so touchy?" Ramza asked.

Delita rolled his eyes and made an odd "pfft" noise, but gave no other answer. Ramza, across the fire from Juliana, suspected that he was looking straight at Delita's source of touchiness.

"For your information, you moody pain in the neck, I was interested enough to go and look up more information about moogles in the library."

"All right, all right, I apologise to everyone for my mood. Now speak on, oh oracle of wisdom." Delita's voice had warmed up considerably, now the sarcasm was just their usual friendly banter.

"Actually, if you want hard facts there _is_ very little more." Ramza said with a slightly sheepish look. "Lots of speculation, of course. Round here, Sam, the moogles seem to have lived in small rural settlements. Though they do find the occasional bit of technology, it mostly seems to be agricultural and domestic.

"With it being warm and marshy, they think that the main crop was probably rice, or maybe something else that we don't even have, today. It looks as if they lived much as we do in rural areas - apart from their homes being in tunnels underground - small villages and farms and with similar family and domestic arrangements." He trailed off, there was little more that wasn't hugely speculative.

"My nurse used to tell me and my brothers and sisters fairy tales about moogles." Hildegard said. "They were always full of magic – but totally unlike the magick we have these days."

"Hmm... I do wonder if that might really be the relics. You know how stories change as they are passed down through the generations - if their technology was so much more advanced than ours it could seem more like magic.

"After all, the mythical airships are said to have been designed and built by moogles, and anything that can let people sail through the air as if they were on the seas sounds pretty magical to me. Yet, I heard a rumour that they think they've found airship parts under Goug." Ramza said.

"Do they have any old moogle settlements in Limberry, Argath?" Juliana asked.

Ramza wondered if her very friendly tone was to annoy Delita. He couldn't even remember her addressing the slightly sullen blond boy directly, before now. Argath gave a start, he had been staring into the fire, only half-listening to the conversation.

"Er... I don't know." He gave her a shy smile. "Sorry, history's not really my thing."

"Ramza, I've got an idea." Delita said brightly. "I'd really like to see some of these relics, why don't you and I and maybe the girls go down to Goug for a few days this summer. By chocobo and boat it should only take three or four days to get there."

"Dycedarg should let _us_ go, but I don't know about the girls. Still it would be nice if the four of us could all go together. Come the Autumn, we should have our commissions and we could end up seeing even less of them than we have been while we've been at the Akademy."

Ramza sighed, he really hoped for his first posting to be near Eagrose, so that he could spend more time, not less, with his family.

"You know, I sometimes _wonder_ about you two and your sisters." Juliana said nastily, glaring at Delita.

Delita blinked and opened his mouth to speak but it was Ophellia, Juliana's closest friend, who headed off the potential explosion from both boys, having quickly picked up on what Juliana was implying.

"Juliana, you're annoyed at Delita for some reason, we've all realised that, but what you just said was going _too_ far. _Especially_ as Ramza, at least, hasn't done a thing to you. And you know that Lady Alma and Tietra were very kind, welcoming us to Eagrose when we were there. I really think you should apologise."

Embarrassed and a little ashamed, Juliana did so with good grace to Ramza, and only slightly resentfully to Delita.

The mood of the party gradually became companionable again, until the drizzle turned to rain and everyone but Hildegard, who was taking first watch, turned in for the night.

* * *

Author's note:

I was trying to decide what to do next with the little band, and I ended up checking the the Siedge Wield's description. Moogles, hmm. Well, it was something for them to talk and bicker about.

Oh, and yes, I am deliberately, if vaguely, referencing one of Arthur C Clarke's "laws" - the one about sufficiently advanced technology being indistinguishable from magic. Once I realised that the moogles were engineers and scientists in Ivalice's distant past, their tech being sci-fi-ish legends and not true fairy tales appealed to me.


	7. Chapter 7 - The Pride of Humble Origins

The Dorter side of the Siedge Weald

_20 miles out of Dorter_

"How will we contact this man your brother planted without raising suspicion?" Argath asked as they sat around discussing today's fight and tomorrow's arrival at their destination.

"We really haven't thought this part through, have we?" Ramza said, after looking steadily at the other blond boy with dismay for a few moments.

"No, and neither did Zalbaag; he should have thought about the fact that espionage wasn't exactly our forte and warned us we'd need to come up with a plan before leaving Eagrose." Delita said.

He couldn't believe they were half a day from Dorter and only _now_ they were considering this. He'd been an idiot! So had the rest of them, of course, but his unofficial role was always the strategist, the planner, while Ramza was the leader and the on-the-spot tactician. Still, it was never too hard to come up with a plan as long as they kept it simple.

"There's an obvious way – the details we got from Zalbaag's adjutant say that this Frederick is a tall dark man and he's pretending to have been a low-born soldier. I can still sound and act like the farm boy, when it suits, so I could go to his lodgings and pretend to be his young cousin or something and ask to speak with him.

"I _look_ like a sprig of minor nobility or gentry, though - in these clothes, I'm obviously an Akademician. If we can get me some second hand peasant's garb, on the other hand, it might work, especially as it sounds like my build and colouring are right."

Argath muttered something about serfs. Ramza thought it had been something about Delita not needing to ___pretend_ to be one which certainly made the plan easier.

"Unlike in Limberry and Zeltennia, serfdom was abolished in the rest of Ivalice before any of us were born, Argath. And besides that, Delita's family, just like my mother's, have been freemen for generations, anyway. They weren't villeins, even before serfdom was abolished."

"A proud and noble heritage, I'm sure." Argath's words were threaded with contempt. Ramza's voice continued to be calm, though he narrowed his eyes contemptuously at the other youth.

"Far from noble, but proud enough, I can assure you. The Heirals and the Lugrias have been tenant farmers on the Beoulve lands as long as anyone can remember. They are, and always have been, hard-working, honest people. Where is the room for shame in being the descendant of good, industrious, honest folk?" Argath shook his head in apparent disbelief. Before anyone else could interject, Ramza spoke again in a casual tone.

"Delita, time for you and I to go for a short walk, I think." This was not the first instance where Ramza had "pulled" Delita away from Argath's vicinity and it had always been for a similar reason. The boy was either a true bigot, or for some reason he had taken a dislike to Delita and had worked out a very effective way to bait him.

"You keep acting as if I'm about to explode at him, Ramza, whenever he does or says anything like this." Delita said, after about half a minute and they were probably out of hearing range of the others.

"You aren't the only one he angers, you know, and besides, _weren't_ you ready to explode? You looked it." Ramza looked at his friend, concerned.

"No, he's not worth the effort." Delita's voice was every bit as contemptuous as Argath's had been earlier.

"I hope you mean that. You're usually very calm and rational, but when something bothers you, you bottle it up until eventually all hell breaks loose. If that's what is going to happen here, at the very least, keep it in until after we've completed the task Zalbaag set for us." Ramza said.

"Yes sir!" Delita gave a mock-salute.

"Don't be like that, or I really will make it an order as your Cadet-Captain. I'd really rather just keep it as the request of a friend." Ramza said mildly.

"Okay, okay. I won't black either of Argath's eyes or bloody his nose until after we find out what's happened to Zalbaag's spy. I won't promise more. Good enough?"

Ramza just sighed and nodded resignedly.

"You're naïve if you think that simple words will change opinions like Argath's, you know." Delita went on.

"Maybe," Ramza said, "but how else do you change someone's opinions?"

Delita barked a laugh.

"Touché, smart-arse, but I just think it will take something more radical to change that lad's prejudices." He said.

"You have a point, but since I don't want a full-blown argument with him, the best I can do is offer my own views to counter his. Come on, if you aren't going to explode at him, and I'm not either, we may as well go back. We still have to work out the details of our plan."

Hildegard spoke as they re-entered the clearing.

"Ramza, if it's just clothes that we need for Delita to do this, it's no problem, I can sort something out once we get to Dorter."

* * *

Author's Note:

No, I still can't write Argath as a half-decent person who's just got one major failing – that he's a hell of a snob - instead, he's just a complete arse.

I always wondered what happened to their original mission – they were sent to find Zalbaag's spy, yet once they leave Eagrose we never hear of the man again.

Of course, at this point, in reality, you have to go wandering about for about 3 weeks of game time just to level up enough to survive the next brutal fight. Dorter seems to be the point where the game laughs at you, makes rude gestures and says "...and you thought this game was easy!" Our little crew are going to bypass that aimless wandering, though - there's a spy to find and a Marquis to rescue.


	8. Chapter 8 - Cousin Fred is Dead

Dorter

Hildegard, it had turned out, was from Dorter and one of her father's stable hands was about Delita's size, so they'd borrowed a set of his clothes and given him the price of a set of brand new ones to thank him. If anyone queried what Delita was doing in Dorter, they'd agreed he could simply say that he _was_ a stable-hand working for Hildegard's family.

Delita now stood on the doorstep of a small lodging house on the edge of Dorter's slums, talking to a slightly suspicious landlady.

"Hello, missus, Ah'm looking for me cousin, Fred. Me Aunty Ana said he'd bin stoppin' here."

"Frederick was your cousin?" She asked.

Delita heard and noted the "was", but pretended he hadn't. He smiled widely at her, playing the garrulous, open-natured country boy for all it was worth.

"Aye, second cousin. Me mam an' his mam are first cousins, but Ah call her Auntie Ana an' he calls me mam Auntie Su. Look, can y'let him know that his cousin Delita has arrived in town from Eagrose an' Ah'd like to see him.

"If he's not in, what time should Ah come back?" He continued to smile cheerfully, hopefully he'd lulled her into thinking him genuine and none too bright.

The worried suspicion on her face became tinged with a little sympathy.

"Oh. I'm sorry, lad. Young Frederick died near a fortnight ago."

Delita let his face drop, then fall into shocked mournfulness and concern.

"How'd he die, like?"

"A short illness. The apothecary said nothing could be done – he wasn't even sure what caused it." She said

"Eee! His mam'll be _devastated_." He shook his head as if in disbelief. "Ah must be too late for the funeral, like?"

"Yes, I think so. Some friends of his took the body away and said they'd arrange it." She said.

"D'you know where Ah could find them? Me Auntie Ana'll wan' us to have found out everything Ah could about it." Delita said.

"Erm... I thought I recognised one of them, I think he has a little business down by the fishing wharfs. I don't know his name, though. Sorry I can't tell you more." She said.

"No, thanks a lot, missus. Ah've got me lass with us, at the minute, like," he gestured at Juliana standing a few yards away, "but once Ah've seen her home, Ah'll go down there and ask around. Ah'm much obliged." He said.

She nodded sympathetically and closed the door.

"Wipe that smug, self-congratulatory expression off your face, you've just found out your cousin Fred's dead, remember?" Juliana, clothed in a maid's dress, said quietly to him as he got close. He sobered. She took his arm and they walked along together like the young courting couple they were pretending to be.

"So, your "lass", huh?"

"Whey-aye, pet, you're me canny bonnie lass." His voice returned to its usual smooth accent-less tone. "I really _am_ sorry about three nights ago. It was only because I was lying in bed, unable to sleep, and I _couldn't_ stop thinking about you. I was just assuming far more than I should have... and I _do_ really like you. Can't we at least be friends again? _Please?_"

"Yes, all right. I really like you too, _and_ I like being your "lass", only I don't want to be taken for granted."

"Understood. I promise, it won't happen again." He bent and kissed her cheek lightly.

"You really are a _very_ bonnie lass, you know." He said with a wink and a knowing grin.

She just rolled her eyes and shook her head at him.

"So do we go down to the fishing wharfs and ask around, or go back and tell the others?" She asked after a few moments, now smiling at him and squeezing his arm.

"I think you and I have pushed our luck far enough with this. I doubt "cousin Fred" really died of a short illness. I think, maybe, all of us need to go down there together, well armed, and take a look around."

* * *

The four girls anxiously drank tea in Hildegard's mother's elegant drawing room as they waited for the three boys to return. Hildegard and Juliana had both needed phoenix downs during the fight and even though they were healed they were still shaky, so Ophellia and Samantha had brought them home, while the boys phoenix downed the swordsman who had been in charge of the brigands and interrogated him.

The girls looked relieved, then concerned, when only Ramza and Delita entered the room.

"Argath won't be joining us for tea, ladies." Delita said. "He's rather too annoyed at Ramza for stopping him from beating the prisoner into insensibility. He muttered something about heading for a tavern and stomped off." He slumped into a seat, with a wicked grin which quickly subsided.

He and Ramza both looked as wan and shaken as Hildegard and Juliana, both of them had needed phoenix downs too – Delita twice – it had been a brutal fight. Ramza held a hand out, palm down, in front of him, and watched it shake, with a dispassionate air of exhaustion. He picked up one of the tiny cakes that had been provided with the tea.

"Hildy, we couldn't get something more substantial to eat, could we, please? I'm told it helps when you are trying to get over being resurrected." Ramza asked.

Hildegard rang for a servant and gave instructions.

"We're you serious about what Argath did?" Samantha asked.

"Oh yes. That swordsman's health was low enough that, for a moment, I thought we were going to have to phoenix down him a second time, after Argath kicked him half-way across the room." Ramza said with a look of disgust.

"Well at least it yielded us answers - the Marquis is being held somewhere called the Sand Rat's Sietch. We're assuming that that must be the old desertmen's settlement. How far is that from town, Hildy?" Delita asked.

"Seventeen, eighteen miles, I think." She said.

"Pushing hard, we sometimes marched thirty-five, thirty-six miles in a day on the way here, we should be able to get there, rescue the Marquis and get back before dark, assuming we leave at first light, and the Marquis is in a fit state to walk." Ramza did not sound confident.

"Papa has far more chocobos than he ever uses. We could ride – then, if the Marquis isn't fully fit, we should still be able to get him back here." Hildegard said.

"Is your father in? We shouldn't just take them without permission." Ramza asked.

"'fraid not. He's president of the Merchant's Guild, and he's hosting some event at the Guild Hall. Mother's with him. Jonathas might still be up, though. He's my older brother. Father's grooming him to be the next great Merchant Prince of Dorter. He's supposed to be leaving early tomorrow to travel to Warjilis, that's why he didn't go to father's big banquet. He'll give us permission - he'd _better_." She said.

Ramza, seeing a certain glint in her eye as she said that, remembered that this wasn't the first time he had thought that Hildy, though she _was_ very nice, would make a formidable opponent. He suspected her brother would be only too pleased to comply without an argument, if he wanted a peaceful life. Besides, wasn't it a big brother's place to indulge his little sister?

He refused Alma and Tietra almost nothing, Delita and Zalbaag were much the same. Dycedarg was their guardian, so it was, perhaps, inevitable that he was a little sterner and less yielding, but he still tried to make Alma happy, when he could. Besides, a little sternness was probably necessary in a brother who was also your legal guardian - Alma could certainly be a bit of a brat at times and... well... he and Delita were certainly no angels.

Ramza smiled to himself, Tietra was never a brat and generally didn't get into too much trouble. Delita would tease her for being a goody-goody but really, everyone loved her for being so sweet-natured.

* * *

Author's Note:

Erm... the accent. The only one I had a hope in hell of getting consistently right was basically a version of my own. So it turns out Delita's a Geordie (from the far North East of England), as far as his childhood accent goes. Presumably, Tietra can switch accents like this too, though I doubt we'll get to hear it. I tried to get a decent compromise between writing real accent/dialect and comprehensibility, I hope it works for most people – it's only there for a bit of fun.

I always wondered how they all just happened to arrive in the right place at the right time to see Wiegraf and that other knight's conversation – just a bit too lucky unless there's something that I've missed about the situation. So here, they at least had reason to have headed to that part of the slums – an indication that Frederick the spy's "friends" have a base down there. Still damned lucky to arrive just as Wiegraf does, of course...

About Frederick the spy and his death: Dycedarg, of course, set this whole kidnapping up, as Wiegraf will shortly be shouting about to Ramza and co. at their first battle against him. To me, it makes sense that Dycedarg would have told Gustav that Zalbaag had planted a spy in their midst, and it also seems logical that Dycedarg might have told Gustav how to get rid of the spy in a way that, at a pinch, could look like natural causes (or even provided him with the means to do that). Mostly this would just be to ensure that Zalbaag doesn't get to hear about the plot – pacifying a disapproving Zalbaag would be a waste of effort for Dycedarg and Duke Larg.


	9. Chapter 9 - Temper Lost, Hope Unrealised

The Road back to Dorter

They had found a little shade where a natural spring had formed a pool among some rocks not far from the side of the road and, propping the still dazed Marquis up against a tree, Argath had fetched him water to drink, bathed his face and done what else he could to make his master comfortable.

Once Ramza was sure that Argath was simply fussing over the man, no longer doing anything essential to his comfort, he went up and touched the other blond boy on the arm.

"Argath, I'd like a few words, there are some things to be decided." He nodded to where the others waited, Delita and Hildegard standing a little forward from the rest.

On reaching them, Ramza began.

"He's in no fit state, I wouldn't even have moved him this far if there had been a choice. We need to decide what's best to do once we get back to Dorter."

"Surely, that's for the Marquis to decide." Argath said haughtily.

"It could be days before the Marquis is fit enough to decide anything. He's only staying on the chocobo because you're holding onto him for grim death... I should say for dear life - don't want to tempt fate."

"Superstition, Ramza? You?" Delita put in, satirically.

"Hush Delita, this is serious - we need to be making decisions. Wherever we take him, I don't want to have to move him again – so where can he go? Hildy? You know Dorter best." Ramza began to pace; he was often full of nervous energy when he was worried.

"Hmm? I don't really know. My mother would certainly be very happy to take the Marquis in and nurse him – I probably shouldn't say this, but you have no idea how serious a social climber she is, the thought of the ruler of a Province under her roof would send her into raptures. However, it's a very comfortable house and he'd certainly not lack for attention... it might not be the most restful place for him, though." Hildegard bit her lip, uncertainly.

"Is there a hospital or similar in the city? We still don't know for certain what's wrong, why he's like this - we need a place with medical attention on hand, I think." Ramza said.

"There's a Guild of Mages. I believe the white mages have a small hospital cum alms-house, where he could probably be taken care of for a few days while he recovers. It would be quiet and I'm told that for a reasonable fee there are private rooms with decent facilities." Hildegard said.

Argath looked from Ramza to Samantha, who was sitting close by.

"You two have the most white magick, do neither of you have any idea what is wrong." Anxiety practically radiated from him.

"Argath, Sam and I have learnt Cure and Raise, we're hardly experts!" Ramza sighed. "For what it's worth, I have my suspicions. You saw me cast Cure after we found him, for all the good it did. I _think_ they drugged him heavily to keep him quiet. If I'm right, a day or two of simple rest may be all he needs for the drugs' effects to wear off.

"I could be totally wrong about that, though. Even if he is merely drugged, there could be complications from such a high dose. That's why I thought of a hospital." Ramza said.

"We'll also need to arrange for guards for him." Delita put in. "It's unlikely he's still under threat, but he's already been kidnapped once." Ramza nodded and continued his pacing.

"No, _we_ have to be the ones to do that." Argath said, vehemently. "I don't trust anyone else."

"We were supposed to come to Dorter, locate Frederick and report back to Zalbaag. We've already totally overstepped our bounds by going further. You, of course, can stay with the Marquis, but the rest of us have to return to Eagrose. We're officially still on guard at the castle. Dycedarg will go berserk as it is - he's a stickler for rules." Ramza said.

"Cowardice, Ramza?" Argath asked.

Ramza narrowed his eyes at the other boy. He wondered if Argath was deliberately trying to anger him. In the circumstances, he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Duty - we've ignored it for long enough. The Marquis is safe, the reason I am happy to leave is that I don't believe that there _is_ any danger, but in case there is, we're going to split into two parties when we get to the city. One party, that's me, Juliana and Ophellia will be going to the watch house and arranging for a guard of city watch to be placed on the hospital while the rest of you, led by Delita, will be taking the Marquis to the mage's hospital."

"And If I don't agree?" Argath asked, his face held a hint of a sneer.

The benefit of the doubt could only go so far.

"Then _leave_, Argath. You aren't in charge here, _I_ am! You're a guest fighter amongst us – a very welcome one, considering your very able contributions, but a guest, nonetheless. So go home, stay right here, go wherever you please, but if you are to continue with us, you do _not_ question my decisions or my orders." Ramza said it firmly, but it took real effort not to raise his voice or lose his temper with the other boy.

"For someone who so often speaks like a class traitor, you still have a remarkable amount of the arrogance of nobility, Ramza." Ramza had kept his temper for days now, but Argath had pushed him once too often. He still did not shout, but his tone did not hide his extreme displeasure.

"Class traitor? You speak like an ignorant fool! My father was Lord Barbaneth Beoulve, Argath, there is nothing in this world I am prouder of than that, but that does not and _should not_ mean that I have any reason to shun any other part of my ancestry. My father had the utmost respect for every man, woman and child in Ivalice, no matter what rank or title, or lack thereof, they held. If being like my father means being a class traitor, then I am very happy to be one and so was he! You are the arrogant one, as well as being ignorant and prejudiced!"

Argath looked resentfully at him for a moment, then sighed.

"Peace, Ramza. We both want the same thing, today - to keep my Lord Elmdore safe and have him well. I apologise for my hasty words. I simply cannot believe the Marquis is no longer in danger and we do not know the men of the city watch, how can we trust them?"

Ramza took a couple of deep breaths and counted to ten before speaking.

"Argath, I honestly believe that there is no danger to him now. We are hardly going to advertise where he is, or even _who_ he is.

"Besides, my brother Zalbaag was beginning to coordinate raids on every known position that the Corpse Brigade had ever held, when we left, and we know that he had sent people to infiltrate them - that poor dead spy is proof of that. They will all be running for or fighting for their lives at the moment. In any case, we already dealt with a lot of the Brigade's members in the Dorter area, I'll be bound. The idea that they would have the ability or even the inclination to attempt another kidnapping at this time is absurd.

"For the sake of the small chance that I'm wrong about this, we will request help from the Dorter city watch. You, of course, will stay right by his side, as the only surviving member of his retinue. I would expect no less of someone who has been so staunchly loyal to him." _And we'll all be rid of you_, was the unspoken corollary to that attempt at making peace.

"I just worry that you may be wrong, but... as you say, _I'll_ stay with him." Argath said.

* * *

A good night's sleep and the prospect of no more Argath left the six Akademy students in fine spirits as they ventured forth into the early morning light. Ramza stopped as he saw the familiar figure waiting for them.

"Argath, have you come to tell us how the Marquis is this morning? That's good of you, I know my brother and the Duke will be anxious to know, as I'm sure we all are." He asked.

"No, I haven't just come to let you know how he is. The Marquis came back to full consciousness in the night. He's still very shaky and unwell, and the mages say he's likely to be so for some days, but he is, at least, in his right senses again.

"He's asked me to return to Eagrose with you to convey his thanks in person to your Lord brothers and the Duke for sending us as rescuers. He also asked me to pass on thanks to _you_, of course. All of you." He raised his voice a little and glanced around at all six.

Ramza wanted to let out a groan at the thought of having to have the boy along with them again, for the next few days, but Argath hadn't finished.

"I'd also like to thank you all myself, for helping me to rescue him. I... I should apologise that I have sometimes been less than civil. My worry led me into bad moods and impolite words."

Ramza glanced at Delita, whose face was a mask.

"Very well. We certainly won't be sorry to have you fighting by our side again if we run into trouble on the way home. We're picking up supplies on the way out of town, but then it's straight on to Eagrose." Ramza said, having to try hard to give his voice even a little warmth.

* * *

Author's Note:

Almost like Zalbaag's spy, the existence of the Marquis is ignored by our team as soon as Ramza & co. rescue him. So I wondered what to do with him – leave him in Dorter or take him to Eagrose? I re-watched the cut-scene at Eagrose where Dycedarg reprimands Ramza for going off into the desert without orders and then he and the Duke discuss their plot. They don't speak as if they had actually had direct contact with the Marquis, yet if Elmdore had been well enough to travel to Eagrose with the cadets he surely also would have been well enough to speak to Larg and Dycedarg.

So the Marquis had to be too unwell to travel and be left behind, which, logically, should probably leave Argath with him to attend upon him. Hence me contriving a reason for Argath to continue with the party, as well as a way for Elmdore to be taken care of in Dorter. I felt like I needed to work out a logical sequence of events for Marquis Elmdore after his rescue, hence me going into detail about it here.

* * *

Acknowledgement:

I'd like to thank darrelodin for pointing out in a review that I have sometimes been producing solid walls of text - I know myself that, while I don't mind reading that so much in a novel, in fan fiction it can be off-putting. I've gone back through these first nine chapters and have tried to break them into much shorter paragraphs. Technically, that means there are sometimes paragraph breaks where none needs to exist, but I hope that for readability it works better now.

Since that meant I was essentially re-proof-reading, it allowed me to pick up on a couple of errors I'd missed and I also ended up making some other very minor changes.


	10. Chapter 10 - Middle Watch in the Rain

The Siedge Weald

Sitting huddled up in his waxed cloak to keep out the rain, Delita had decided, at least an hour ago, that he didn't only dislike being on middle watch, as he had believed before tonight, he _hated_ it! Being woken up at about midnight, then having to stay wakeful for three hours or so with only one's own thoughts for company was not fun. The tiredness the next morning from having two naps at either end of the night, instead of an uninterrupted sleep was even less fun.

He pulled Ramza's clock-watch from under his shirt, opening the ornate brass cover. Still nearly an hour to go. He swore this felt like a time mage had come and cast Haste on him so that, while he was speeded up, time itself crawled by. Give him another few minutes and he'd be mired in gloomy thoughts, as he usually found himself on damp nights.

He knew what Haste felt like, Ramza's mother had been a white mage, but had had a secondary speciality in time magic. Around his tenth birthday, perhaps three months before Lady Beoulve had died, the four children had once begged her and begged her to cast Haste and Slow on them, just to see what they felt like. She warned them it could be dangerous, that time magic was only meant to aid in combat, but had, eventually, agreed to let them try it, just this once.

Alma had always been good at persuading the adults to do what she wanted, Delita remembered. Her mother had been more aware of what the girl was doing, but had usually given in anyway, eventually. Her father and eldest two brothers she had had wrapped around her finger. Lord Barbaneth, in particular was putty in his "little angel's" hands.

Delita grinned, thinking that if he ever had children, he'd know to be very careful of the word "Pa_pa_", said with just _that_ inflection!

The effects that the two spells had on the senses were fairly subtle and so, at around nine and ten, the children had been rather unimpressed. Delita did remember, though, that Slow had made the rest of the world feel like it was hurrying while Haste had made everyone else seem like they were dawdling. You had to be looking for it, he suspected, to even really notice it, though.

On the battle field, he thought the difference might be more discernible – Haste was about having improved reaction times, an ability to move out of the way before the blow connected and to strike quickly and accurately yourself. Slow was all about doing exactly the opposite to an opponent.

The Stop spell wasn't something they had initially asked to experience. Zalbaag had been the only one of the three Beoulve men to be at home at the time, and he had happened upon them as they had been experimenting with Slow. He'd laughed when he found out what was happening and ruffled both boys hair, ending, as always, by absently trying to smooth his little brother's cow-lick down.

"You two aren't trying this out?" He'd asked the two little girls, who were sitting, talking quietly, on a settle in the corner.

"They were - still are, I suppose." Ramza's mother had said from where she stood by the fire, looking worried. "With her Slowed reactions, Alma tripped and hurt herself, so she and Tietra have decided to wait this out. It was irresponsible of me to let them try it, Zal."

"Nonsense. How much harm can they come to with a Master white mage on hand? Did you even have to use Cure?"

"Yes - she burst her lip wide open." Lady Merissa had grimaced and looked guilty.

"Well it looks well mended now. Does it still hurt, my little angel?" He'd asked Alma.

"Not really, but I got blood on my dreth and it'th almotht new. Look, Thalbaag." She pointed at the few blood spots on the bodice.

The lisp had arrived as Alma had lost her two front teeth over the last couple of weeks and, while Zalbaag had found it endearing, Delita remembered that he and Ramza had not been so kind about it - for the few weeks it lasted they had found it hilarious to gigglingly repeat her lisped words over and over. "Thalbaag" had seemed especially humorous.

"Don't worry so much, Merissa, she's not hurt and Ramza, in particular, will probably be very grateful the first time he feels this in battle that he's already experienced it. It might even be a kindness, of sorts, for you to cast Stop on him when he's older, before he ever has to face it on the battlefield. I remember the feeling of abject terror the first time I ever experienced it – right in the middle of a fight." He'd shuddered.

Lady Merissa had blanched at the very idea.

"Yes, I remember what it's like as well. As a support mage, you hope you can stay well back and avoid that sort of thing, but I well remember the only two times I had it cast on me. I had to be phoenix downed both times.

"It was less the dying itself, more the waiting, unable to move, speak or even do anything but stare straight forward and strain your ears. What I found so terrifying was knowing that I would feel the pain of someone's blade bite into me any moment and that I could do nothing to prevent it, nor even see it coming.

"I don't mind admitting that both times it happened, I woke up in cold sweats for weeks afterwards, having dreamt I was completely paralysed and just waiting for death again."

Delita had seen Zalbaag nod at that. He wondered now, whether Zalbaag had just been agreeing about the horror of waiting, completely incapacitated, for death, or if he too had actually suffered nightmares about it.

Ramza, he remembered, had asked to have the spell cast on him right then. Delita thought it had probably been a little brother's hero-worship of Zalbaag, that had prompted that bravado - bravado and competitiveness was certainly what had prompted Delita to second the idea, that both of them could be Stopped. The girls hadn't been stupid enough to join in, and the two adults had both said "No!" in the tone that all four children knew _really _meant no.

"Ask me again when you're sixteen or seventeen and ready for your first battles and I _might_ consider it." Lady Merissa had said to her son. "I can understand your brother's reasoning, but I won't do it until then."

She had smiled at Zalbaag, but her eyes had been worried. Ramza's mother, he recalled, had never been happy that all of the Beoulve men simply assumed that her beloved, apparently delicate son would automatically become a warrior.

He remembered, not long after this, just weeks before Lady Merissa's death, a bitter comment from her, said in passing to Lord Beoulve, about her only son becoming yet more fodder for this seemingly endless war. "Poor Delita too, no doubt." She had added as she watched the two boys playing with tin soldiers on a battlefield of their own imagining.

His eyes were drooping and the fire was going out – the rain was getting heavier. He threw more wood on, but it was damp and that didn't help. Damn it! Just as well Sam was on final watch and she'd recently progressed to learning some black magic. He hoped casting Fire would relight the camp-fire, because nothing he did seemed to be working to prevent it going out.

He checked the rain-cover on the candle lantern – yes that was still working, thank goodness, and the candle should last until first light, by the look of it. In the dark of a cloudy night - with no fire, moon- or star-light - if you had no lantern, you were left relying on your ears alone to detect intruders. That tended to leave you ridiculously jumpy! He took up the lantern and checked the clock-watch again. Only about twenty minutes to go. He stifled a yawn.

After a few moments, Delita found himself speculating idly about whether Ramza realised that he had started to become the thing he wanted above all things in the world – he was becoming very like his elder brother Zalbaag. Zalbaag was a very good man, an honourable man and he was an excellent leader and tactician. Ramza was gradually becoming all of these things.

Zalbaag, though, was not the strategist or the long-term planner that his elder brother Dycedarg was. This would be a very serious drawback in a General, except that Dycedarg was always there for advice and guidance for his younger brother. Delita often found Dycedarg hard to like, but he could readily admit that he respected and even admired Dycedarg's acumen and strategic planning abilities.

Without conceit, Delita knew that he had some of the same qualities as Lord Dycedarg. This was ignoring his recent slip, of course, when he should have been helping Ramza plan for their arrival at Dorter, and instead he'd been too preoccupied about Juliana's rejection, Argath's sneers and the fun of being off on their own.

He wondered if that was going to be his role in life – Ramza's advisor and adjutant. In ten years time, Delita imagined that Ramza would probably acting as Zalbaag's second in command. Another Beoulve General. For a low-born man to become aide-de-camp to General Beoulve would be something indeed... but was it enough? Should it be enough?

He hated to say it, even inside his own head, but in many ways he outdid Ramza – even admitting it to himself felt like disloyalty, but it was also true! Delita was not only a great strategic planner, he was a more than passable tactician. He could understand the political implications of military decisions and he was generally calmer and more rational than either Ramza or Zalbaag.

What he lacked was their innate leadership ability – people said, without exaggeration, that Barbaneth Beoulve's men had been so loyal and devoted that they would have followed him to certain death, if that was what he had required of them. Zalbaag didn't rate quite such adulation, yet, but Delita had seen signs amongst the men stationed at Eagrose that told him that it could well come to that soon.

And Ramza? Whether he liked it or not, _he_ followed Ramza like a faithful hound, and barely ever questioned his final decisions. Yes, part of that was simply that he often had had great influence on those decisions, but even when they occasionally disagreed on a point, ultimately Delita did not resent or question Ramza, he simply followed.

As short a time as this team had been together – less than a fortnight – the four girls had come to all look up to Ramza and, like Delita himself, they followed him without question and deferred to his decisions. Even the obnoxious Argath had backed down and given two apologies in as many days, and had not tried to undermine Ramza's plans once decisions had been made.

That brought him back to his current problem. Ambitions were all very well, but as a man of peasant stock he was not supposed to be able to hold a commission in the army. There had yet to be a General who didn't hold an aristocratic title, and he didn't think there was a Brigadier or even a Colonel who didn't, at least, come from the landed gentry. Most other officers had similar backgrounds, though a few, these days, were coming from the upper echelons of the wealthy middle classes, so perhaps things were improving slowly.

Actually it wasn't strictly true that low-born men _never_ gained commissions. Occasionally there would be an exception. Wiegraf Folles had been just such a one.

Discovered to be able to channel the Holy Sword techniques, which were extremely uncommon and always highly prized, Wiegraf had been given an Ensigncy by Lord Barbaneth and had gained two subsequent promotions, ending the war as Captain of the Dead Men. A Captain whose use had ended with the war and whose men, all volunteers, no less, had been discharged with almost a year's back-pay and their discharge bonuses unpaid.

Was it any wonder that they had turned against the Order of the Northern Sky?

In the privacy inside his own head he would admit that when he had spoken to Ramza of how Dycedarg was an "interesting" man, what he had actually meant was that his legal guardian was a dyed-in-the-wool dishonourable bastard. Seeing Wiegraf Folles twice in as many days had forcibly reminded Delita of the day, a little over a year ago, when he had first seen the man.

Wiegraf and his three Lieutenants had approached Eagrose Castle, and respectfully ask for parley with the Duke or either of the Lords Beoulve. Dycedarg had given orders to refuse them entry and would not even contemplate hearing or reading any petition about men's rights or listen to the truth about their suffering families.

As far as Delita knew, Dycedarg hadn't even tried to justify why he was refusing to see them or let them speak to the Duke. Lord Barbaneth would not only have listened to everything the men had to say he would have gone to the Duke and the King and petitioned on _the men's behalf_, Delita was sure.

Yes, Delita knew that he had some of the same qualities as Lord Dycedarg Beoulve. That he could _certainly_ admit without conceit. He wished he could admit it without a sense of unease. He sometimes hated that he could think, even a little, like the man. He knew he had plenty of ambition, but he hoped that he would always remain a decent, honourable man who would only ever use ethical means to achieve his own ends.

Checking the clock-watch revealed that it was time to change watch. He went to wake Samantha.

* * *

Author's Note:

This is something a little different for a variety of reasons. I made a decision not to include the battles, or extensive discussion of them, but I am keen to try to put bits of the game's mechanics in, nevertheless - hence the Haste/Slow/Stop part. I also tried to make this "introspection" piece have a feel of someone's wandering thoughts when they are alone with no company but themselves.

If I made it too wandering, leave me a comment and I'll try to make any future similar pieces a bit tighter. I want to do one from Ramza sometime soon too - I did Delita first because he's easier and more interesting to write - Ramza has so much Mary Sue potential. Please leave feedback about anything in these first ten chapters, for that matter.

**Historical Trivia - Clock-Watches** - Ancestor to the pocket-watch, dating from about Elizabethan times, they were a small clock, with only an hour hand, that were generally worn around the neck like a giant locket/medallion on a chain (hence Delita pulling it out from under his shirt). Anyone who already knew what one was - sorry if this note seems patronising.


	11. Chapter 11 - Reporting to the Head

Gariland

Ramza entered the Head Master's study, with Delita a step behind. It was early evening, and they had just finished stowing their belongings in their room.

"Sir, we've come to report to you, as you requested we should on our way back to Eagrose." Prejudiced though he could be towards the low-born, the Head Master was otherwise quite a likeable old man. Ramza was not entirely sorry to be speaking to him this evening, especially as he had such success to report.

"Yes, yes, of course, though it was really only _you_ that I wanted to see, Ramza. I only want a report from you on how your squad fares." The old man smiled indulgently at Ramza, more or less ignoring Delita. Ramza gave a tiny sigh.

"So I understood, sir, but Delita's my second, so I had assumed that you would also..."

"No, no. You run along, Delita." The old man said, with an unusual show of warmth, albeit patronising warmth, towards Delita.

Delita nodded and gave the requisite salute, though he rolled his eyes at Ramza as he turned on his heel.

"Take a seat, my boy, and tell me if you learned anything from the spy your brother sent you to find."

Ramza explained what had happened, the spy dead, Delita recognising Wiegraf Folles and them interrogating the prisoner only to find that the Marquis was a half-day's ride away – without mentioning Argath's over-enthusiasm for the process.

"So you rescued the Marquis?" The Head asked.

"Yes, sir, sort of, though, strictly speaking, he had already been more than half-rescued by Wiegraf Folles himself. We came upon Wiegraf just after he'd killed his Lieutenant. From what he said, he killed him for having betrayed their cause by kidnapping the Marquis in the first place. Sir, if that's the truth, that Wiegraf Folles killed a man he'd long trusted for having been so unprincipled, surely it would be possible to bring him to the negotiating table? He seems a man of honour."

"You would need to speak to your brothers about that, but I fear they will tell you that things have gone too far for that. Besides, think, Ramza, if one of his own Lieutenants has betrayed him, how could Folles hope to guarantee that any of his people would stick to any agreement made at talks between him and the Duke or your brothers."

"I suppose he couldn't. Still, the Brigade are likely to all die for their convictions, surely for Wiegraf and his people it would be better to gain half a loaf..." Ramza trailed off.

The Head Master was right, The Corpse Brigade was such a rag-tag group that Wiegraf couldn't possibly guarantee what all of his people would do.

Ramza felt unutterably frustrated – dozens, nay _hundreds,_ of people were going to die. Some for their conviction that they had to fight for their principles of equality, many more because they just hated the aristocracy that much.

Would it be any better for those who died for their convictions? They'd be just as dead as those who died for pure hatred. Their families would be just as bereft of a husband or wife, a brother or sister, a daughter or son. He had no doubt about the Order winning – Dycedarg and Zalbaag had planned the campaign together and Zalbaag would execute that plan. As long as they had sufficient numbers, they couldn't really fail.

He had no idea if the Head Master had noticed his reverie, but the man spoke as if he had not, asking Ramza to finish his report. Ramza did so, then made as if to excuse himself and leave.

"Tell me, Ramza, how is your squad shaping up?" The old man said, stopping him.

"Very well indeed, sir. The four girls and I have been increasing our skills in magicks, currently Samantha and I are working on black magick, with secondary white magic and Hildegarde, Ophellia and Juliana are practising white with black secondary. All of us shoot a bow pretty well, also. Delita's decided to stay in a more physical role and so he's still perfecting his skills as a squire, for now, but he's taken his turn as team chemist and gained a few useful skills there also.

"As a group, I feel we've already formed a strong bond – we get on remarkably well and everyone pulls their weight. We all know we can rely on each other and all in all I'm very impressed with the way the team have become a cohesive unit, so quickly. Especially as Hildy was a last minute replacement."

"And your friend, Delita, you are happy with him as your second-in-command?" Ramza had wished to speak to the old man about this when the choice was made, but hadn't had the courage, or even much opportunity. He was nervous, but forced himself on.

"More than happy but... sir, may I speak freely, please?"

"If it's about Delita, then of course." The Head said.

"It is... I was wondering, sir, if you realise how much Delita is wasted in acting as my second-in-command. He has all of the qualities needed in a military leader but he needs practise at actually being in charge. He'd make an excellent cadet-captain – I say that not only as his friend, but as someone who has spent his life around great generals, observing them. I don't think I am being over-partial when I say he has what it takes to become a superb commander." Ramza said.

The Head Master looked at Ramza, as if weighing his words.

"If I said to you that I would happily take your word about that, and asked you to step down as Captain and put Delita in charge of your squad, instead, would you be happy to act as his second in command?" Ramza searched the old man's face to try to see if he was serious – he looked it. Sighing he said.

"I'd not _want_ to step down, but if you tell me I have to, there's no-one I would be happier to follow than Delita, sir. He'd be every bit as good as I am, as a leader, sir – probably better." The old man nodded thoughtfully.

"Can you think why I might have been reluctant to put Delita in charge of a squad?"

"Yes sir, his birth, sir. You didn't want to put someone of his low-birth in charge of a squad, sir." That was a bad habit, Ramza reminded himself, larding your answer with "sir" when you were worried that you were about to offend. The Head Master didn't look as if he was offended, Ramza thought, thankfully.

"That plays its part," the old man said, "you look surprised to hear me say it, Ramza. Well, you shouldn't be. As many leadership qualities as you say Delita has, it will be difficult for him to ever become a senior commander in the army, as things stand. I have to give those who are likely to be given responsibility at a young age, such as yourself, priority as captain when we make up these cadet squads.

"Normally, it would have been against my better judgement to give someone of Delita's birth even the lieutenancy, but he has proved himself a very able student and with yours and your brothers' patronage he may well rise higher than anyone of peasant-stock ever has in the Order of the Northern Sky. Just as you are likely to become a general one day, I would imagine your friend may well manage to become, at least, our first low-born colonel." The old man looked self-satisfied, but this answer gave Ramza no sense of satisfaction.

"Sir, if Delita is as able as I am, shouldn't he be just as capable of becoming a general?"

"Ramza, you are being naïve if you really believe that." The Head said.

Ramza wasn't _quite _that naïve. He hadn't asked the question because he really believed that that was what _could_ happen, but because it was what he felt convinced _should_ be able happen.

"What about that protégé of Marquis Elmdore's that you had with you on your way through here a week ago? You said that he's still with you. How well do you feel he has he integrated with your squad?" The old man asked.

"Argath? I feel that I have failed with him, sir. He has not integrated well. I find I cannot like him, and none of the others appear to have many positive feelings about him either." Ramza said, wishing the Head has not remembered Argath, Ramza was thoroughly dissatisfied with the whole situation.

"And do you feel that this is his fault or yours?"

Ramza didn't think that that question was as innocuous as the Head Master's innocent-sounding tone implied.

"I... I want to say his, sir – after all, there are six of us who dislike him. However, I am the leader of the squad, and had I made more effort to help him to integrate, perhaps the others would also have been more tolerant." Except Delita, he thought, Argath would never have managed to endear himself there, with his affected air of superiority, due to his supposedly elevated rank.

"I will try to do better in future, sir, try to make him feel more welcome amongst us." Ramza said.

The old man nodded his agreement, smiled, then dismissed Ramza.

* * *

Author's Note:

We're roughly at the half-way point of the story of the "flash-back within a flash-back" part (i.e. Chapter 1) of FFT, now.

I acknowledge that this is a bit of an uneventful vignette, but I wanted to move away from every chapter being "Ramza and Delita bickering and/or discussing stuff" which is what I feel I've written quite a lot of so far, but that was never my sole objective. The game's story doesn't really pick up pace until we get back to Eagrose, which should be the vignette after next.

"Half a loaf is better than no bread" is a saying that is British in origin. While I probably fill my writing with peculiarly British idioms, without even realising, this is one I picked up on at proof-reading stage (Ramza says something about gaining half a loaf). I'm leaving it in because it makes sense in context (and I'm lazy) but I thought I'd better note it for anyone not use to the saying - the meaning is, I assume, self-explanatory, given its context, now you know the whole saying. (Of course, if it's also fairly widely used in the English speaking world outside the UK, then I never needed to make this note!)


	12. Chapter 12 - Girl-Talk in the Graveyard

Mandalia Plain

There had been a battle that afternoon and the boys had been in the thick of things, even Ramza, who had fought as a black mage, but the girls had managed to hang back and fire spells from a distance. They had, therefore, been only too happy to let the tired, blood-spattered boys go off to bathe in the nearby river, while they set up camp.

"I don't like this place," Sam said, "these stones make it look like a graveyard."

"Well there's a cheerful thought!" Hildy said.

"I'm just _saying_..." Sam said tiredly, trailing off.

After a few moments she went on in a dull voice.

"Is this what you all thought it would be like?"

"What? What do you mean by "this"?" Hildy asked.

"The fighting, the being in the army?" Sam said.

"We aren't in the army yet." Ophellia said quietly, almost as subdued as Sam.

"That's the thing, isn't it? This isn't even the army and yet we act like it was." Sam said. Ophellia and Hildy looked at each other, neither was sure what that was supposed to mean.

"Sam you're in the fourth year of the Military Akademy – surely you _wanted _to go into the army when you came to the school?" Hildy asked.

"Not really," Sam said, biting her lip, "I just didn't want to end up married off to one of the neighbouring barons like my two elder sisters. I wanted more freedom, and so when my little brother – Deryk, you know, in second year - dared me to tell father I wanted to go to the Gariland Akademy, I did."

"Good grief, Sam, are you saying that you're only just realising now that it was a mistake?" Hildy asked.

"I don't know. It's still better than the alternative, I think. My sister, Minerva, was made to marry one of our neighbours and he's _vile -_ old, fat, smells odd _and_ he beats her, I think. I may not always enjoy this life, but I'd rather be here, shooting Thunder at panthers than go through _that_." Sam said.

"Your family stick to the old ways - arranged marriages where the girl has no say whatsoever, and all that?" Hildy asked.

"Yes." Sam said, simply.

"Mine too." Ophellia said. "Only I really _wanted_ to be in the military. My eldest brother is a Brigadier and I idolised him when I was little - wanted to be just like him - so I persuaded father that I should come to the Akademy. It was different, four years ago, though, when we all started at school. The war was still on, and there was a need for dozens of new officers each year. If I don't get a posting immediately my father may marry me off, anyway.

"My uncle, my mother's brother, is a senior officer in the Lionsguards. I was thinking of writing to him and telling him how well we're doing and sounding him out about a place with them. I wanted to be in the _real_ army but guarding the Queen or the Princess is better than go home just to be some man's chattel." Ophellia said, sighing.

"There wouldn't be a place for all four of us with the Lionsguard, would there? I think living in the capital for a year or two might be fun." Hildy said with a grin.

"If we train hard as knights, there might be. Uncle once said that he thinks the commander is rather short-sighted, he employs only physical fighters, even the female guards, which he thinks is stupid. Whether we like it or not, none of us will ever be as strong as a broad six-foot bloke with the muscle and sinew to swing a battle-axe all day. I mean look at _me_!"

Ophellia was the most delicate of the four girls, short and slender. It meant she had eventually been forced to throw herself into the magical training harder than the physical, whatever her true preference might have been. She was stronger than she looked, but it was still a great disappointment to her that, as petite as she was, she would never be ideal knight material.

"So many women end up specialising in magic, that physical fighters are at premium for the Royal Ladies' guard."

"What about you, Juli? Want to join the Lionsguard with us?" Hildy asked Juliana with a laugh, Juliana being the only one of them who had not joined in the conversation.

"Hmm?" Juliana said, clearly distracted. Hildy changed tack, still trying to draw her into the conversation.

"Why did you want to join the army? Assuming you did." She threw a puzzled glance at Sam with those last words.

"Oh, I guess it just seemed like the only thing - all of my family are career military. Seemed like I'd do it too." She said, slightly vaguely.

Hildy frowned at her.

"Where were you and Delita last night, anyway? The rest of us all went to the pub after the Headmaster finished speaking to Ramza." She asked.

"Oh we went for a walk." Juliana said, even more vaguely.

The walk had lasted all of twenty minutes, the rest of their evening had been spent in her room. She'd wanted a few kisses and a cuddle, but things had gone a lot further than she'd originally intended – though she couldn't blame him for that... or, at least, no more than she could blame herself.

"It's a shame that you didn't come, Ramza bought us a few rounds and even Argath came out of his shell a little." Hildy said.

"Really?" Juliana didn't sound particularly interested.

"What's up, Juli? You're not really with us, are you?" Ophellia asked.

"I... nothing, everything's fine." She said, trying to smile normally.

"Did you and Delita have another row?" Ophellia asked, quietly.

"No... No, nothing like that." Juliana said.

"Juli, what's wrong?" Sam asked.

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong, everything's fine! Why am I suddenly being interrogated?" Juliana snapped. She got the her feet and stalked away.

"She's only been moody like this in the last couple of months whenever she and Delita have had a disagreement." Ophellia, her closest friend among the girls, said, with a shake of her head.

"She said they didn't have a row." Sam pointed out.

"You don't think the two of them... _you know_?" Hildy asked, looking a little worried.

"What? You mean...?" Sam asked, her eyes wide.

"I'd better go after her." Ophellia said, sighing heavily.

"Here come the boys." Sam called after her.

Ophellia shocked Delita by throwing him a filthy look as she walked away from their camp - they usually got on well.

"What have I done?" He asked the other two girls as he approached.

"We don't know, we just know that Juli seems rather closed-mouthed and upset. So I suspect _you_ already know what you've done." Hildy said, sounding disapproving as she watched colour rise into the boy's cheeks.

"Where _is_ Juliana?" He asked, looking worried.

"She went off in that direction." Sam said, pointing to where he'd seen Ophellia go. Delita strode quickly off after the two girls.

"Ramza, was Delita already in your room when we got back from the pub last night?" Ramza used Fire to light the camp-fire that the girls had already built before he replied.

"Hmm? No."

"What time did he get back?" Hildy asked.

"Don't know, he didn't light a candle, just got into bed. I'd been asleep a while, though, I think." Ramza said, fiddling with one of his boots.

"Did he say anything?" Sam asked.

"Just "'Night, Ramza", I think - I was half-asleep."

Hildy narrowed her eyes at Ramza, she knew their captain wasn't _this_ dense. He knew what they were asking and was trying to ignore the real import of the questions.

"Did he say where he'd been when you got up this morning, then?" Hildy asked.

"Look Hildegard, Samantha, if you want to know about Delita's movements last night, ask him yourself!" Ramza said, clearly exasperated.

"Oh, don't you worry, I _will_!" Hildegard said, in a tone that boded no good for the other boy.

Ramza briefly considered reminding her that he was their Cadet-Captain and Delita his second in command but decided that pulling rank probably wouldn't get a good reaction, especially since they were, sort of, off duty at the moment.

* * *

Author's Note:

I wanted to think a bit more about what everyday life for women in this late-medieval setting might be like (well upper-middle and upper class women, in this case). The problem is that late-medieval settings and women fighting as part of an army just do not mix well, so it suddenly occurred that one way out of having to submit to the cultural norms for these women would _be_ going into the army. Pre-marital sex also isn't socially acceptable in a medieval setting, especially where a strict religion plays a large part in life, hence Juliana getting so worried about what they've done. Delita hasn't done anything wrong, in this case, she's just feeling conflicted that she's committed a sin and broken the social taboos. I imagine I'll return to these themes once I hit Chapters 2-4 and have Agrias and the other female characters to explore them with.

Oh, if anyone has anything they'd particularly like to see in one of these vignettes, or any suggestions at all really make a comment/review or PM me, please. I'd welcome the ideas.


	13. Chapter 13 - Faffing About

Eagrose

"Thank-you for what you were trying to do in there, Delita, but, please, don't ever do that again with Dycedarg - you _know _what he's like!" Ramza said as they walked back to the Mansion.

They'd arrived at the Beoulve Mansion around midday and sent a messenger up to the castle, where Dycedarg was apparently attending upon the Duke. Zalbaag was at the army barracks, further down the valley, so Ramza had sent a messenger to him too, reporting their success. The messenger had returned from Dycedarg, post-haste, demanding their immediate attendance.

Instead of the congratulations they'd felt entitled to, the three boys had been given a severe tongue-lashing for exceeding their orders. On seeing his friend appear to be physically drooping under the thorough upbraiding, Delita had impulsively spoken up to try to take all of the blame onto himself. Ramza was right, of course, lying to Lord Dycedarg was not a way to endear either of them to him.

Delita stayed quiet. He felt far more rebuked than thanked but he knew that what Ramza had just said had been was just - as accomplished a dissembler as Dycedarg was, he hated to be lied to himself. Argath spoke up.

"I see that what you said on the way back into Dorter, with the Marquis, was correct, Ramza. I thought you were just trying to get out of the tedious duty of guarding a sick man, but I see that you really did have reason to worry about your brother's reaction... even if I can't understand why he wouldn't be more pleased."

Ramza didn't answer him for a moment, instead greeting the guards on the gate of Mansion Beoulve as they passed through.

"I don't know why he isn't pleased either, Argath, he..._ Zal... Hey ZALBAAG!_" The last was in a deafening shout.

Ramza jogged towards the distant, retreating back of his elder brother. The older man turned and grinned at the younger.

"Ramza, I hear we are to congratulate you, yet again, on your success. You really are doing us proud, brat!"

"Well at least _you're_ not annoyed with us!" Ramza said, in relief, as Delita and then Argath caught him up.

"Dycedarg? I know." Zalbaag sighed. "He thinks you should have stayed on the Eagrose battlements and left the fighting to more experienced men."

"Zal, you _did_ tell him that you told us to go to Dorter didn't you?" Ramza asked anxiously.

"I told him that I'd told you that my spy had gone missing – it's a terrible shame about Frederick, of course – and that I'd told you about it and left the option open for you to go and investigate. I couldn't tell him I'd ordered you - because I hadn't."

Unwatched by Zalbaag, Delita rolled his eyes at that. He wondered if the man had made it clear that he'd _as good as_ ordered them to go. Zalbaag's tendency to always speak only the truth was like Ramza's, as frustrating as hell and could sometimes lead to just as many misunderstandings as an outright lie.

Dycedarg would know, of course, that Zalbaag – General Beoulve – had strongly implied to the cadets that they should go and one did not ignore even one's general's implicit orders. Nor could they, realistically, have left the job he had given them half-finished and just come home after they had discovered that the Marquis was being held only a day from Dorter.

Ramza would tell him that he was being needlessly suspicious of Dycedarg, but Delita worried why in Ivalice the man _wasn't_ pleased. The Marquis had been due on a state visit to the ruler of Gallione Province. As that ruler's closest advisor and most trusted friend, Lord Dycedarg should be delighted that it was a unit led by his own brother that had rescued the Marquis - it should do him much credit with Duke and Marquis alike... shouldn't it? If he was upset and displeased, what did that mean was _really_ going on?

Ramza had been right the day they first left the Akademy, they were sixteen and no-one would let them play political games. Once they had gone on this final raid against the Brigade, they would be back to Eagrose for a brief spell guarding the castle walls, then, once all the regular troops returned to duty, they'd be back to school for a few weeks until they graduated. Nor, realistically, would anyone let him play those games _after_ he graduated, a raw low-born ensign posted the gods knew where.

He realised that Ramza had spoken to him.

"Hmm?" he responded.

"Nothing important. You were miles away." Ramza said with a smile and a shake of the head.

"Zalbaag, why would Lord Dycedarg be so very upset that we had gone on to rescue the Marquis? He surely cannot think that, once we had discovered that he was just a few miles from Dorter, we would just _leave_ him there, for at least ten days, while more experienced troops were dispatched, can he?" Delita asked, walking beside the brothers towards the Mansion, Argath trailing them.

"Oh, I don't suppose that he is upset that you _rescued_ the Marquis. He's annoyed that you left without telling him you were going and that, in the end, you acted without orders or adequate back-up. He thinks you're too young to have undertaken such a rescue. Just between us, boys, I think he's been dwelling too much on what could have gone wrong, rather than what _did_ go right.

"He wasn't really bothered that you had gone to Dorter, even after we got your note saying that my spy was dead. It was only the note that arrived two days ago, that said you were setting out to rescue the Marquis, that really got to him. He fumed for hours about you exceeding your orders. Still, he should have known," he clapped his little brother on the shoulder, "that troops led by a Beoulve seldom fail." He laughed and ushered them towards the house.

That just confirmed for Delita that Dycedarg hadn't wanted the Marquis rescued.

* * *

An hour later, the boys had bathed and had felt relieved to change into something that wasn't armoured, for once. They spoke to the first servant they came across to find out where either their sisters or the other four girls were. As it turned out, all of them were in Tietra and Alma's rooms, which flummoxed the boys.

"All six of them?" Ramza asked.

"Yes sir."

They turned around and went to their sisters' suite of rooms, Ramza assuring Argath that, yes, it would be fine for him to come along, which led Delita to raise an eyebrow questioningly at Ramza, when their guest wasn't looking.

They reached the room, knocked and went in. They hadn't known what the girls would be spending their time on, but they hadn't expected this.

"What are you all doing?" Ramza asked his sister confusedly, through the clamour of chatter and giggling.

"Well Tietra and I have a new lady's maid and she's fantastic at dressing hair and doing make-up, so we invited the girls to come to our rooms to be pampered before dinner." Alma said.

"But dinner isn't for a couple of hours, and what about all this other... girly stuff?" Ramza said, shaking his head disbelievingly as he gestured at Samantha who was filing Ophellia's nails for her.

"Ramza," Alma said patiently, sounding like she was speaking to a five-year-old, "this girly stuff is _fun_ and is part of preparing for the banquet - _and_ four of your companions are _girls_, believe it or not, which makes _girly stuff_ completely appropriate. And how long do you suppose it will take poor Jaane, our maid, to get six of us ready?"

"They're not just _girls_, they're my squad and they looked perfectly presentable as they were – _in_ _uniform_. They don't need to faff about with themselves like this – you shouldn't have encouraged it."

Ramza gradually became aware that what he had said had not made him any friends amongst the female part of his squad - the looks being directed at him were not the happiest.

"_Faff about with themselves! Huh! _And I didn't _encourage_ it. There is a banquet tonight so I offered the services of our new maid to any of the girls who wanted to have their hair and make-up done and it turned out they all did, and I'm giving Jaane a large bonus for working so hard to look after us all today.

"As I understand it, all seven of you have been running around clad in armour, mud, blood and guts, for a couple of weeks now and, even if _you_ are completely oblivious, four of your comrades _are_ girls. Girls like to look nice and feel nice and _smell_ nice. Just because you three are barbarians doesn't mean Sam, Hildy, Juli and Ophellia are."

Ramza didn't reply, he just looked nonplussed at his sister's vehemence.

"Believe it or not, Alma, even we three barbarians don't go around _deliberately_ daubing ourselves with mud, blood and guts." Delita put in, grinning at Ramza's obvious perplexity.

Ramza retreated to sit next to Tietra and get out of his own sister's direct line of fire. Delita went over to sit with Juliana, who had already had her hair done, and murmured in low tones.

"Well I think you _always_ look nice and feel nice and smell nice, so now that she's made your hair extra pretty, I'm not sure there's anything else that this Jaane could possibly do." She blushed and beamed at him.

"What was that?" He asked suddenly, raising his voice, taking his attention off Juliana and giving it all to his sister and Alma, who were sitting one on either side of Ramza now.

"We were telling Ramza that Zal says he's going to see about persuading the Duke to throw a Grand Ball to celebrate, once the Corpse Brigade are defeated. He says it will be a nice thank-you to all of you cadets for so willingly helping out with the guard duty – or in your case rescuing Marquises and taking part in the raids, I suppose." Alma said.

"Tietra, I'm not sure that I remember any of the dances, will you help me practise beforehand?" Ramza said, almost plaintively. "Alma told me she wouldn't ever dance with me again after that last little mishap."

"You _dropped_ me when we were practising the Volta and I ended up with a sprained ankle!" Alma said indignantly to her brother.

"As long as it isn't the Volta, you practise." Delita said darkly. It was classed as a slightly risqué dance.

"Actually, that's the one I particularly want to..." Ramza began, only to be cut off.

"No!" Delita said. "I remember the last time the two of you danced..."

"No! _You_ can just shut up, Delita Heiral!" His usually mild sister suddenly flared up. "I was _eleven_ and it was only... Gods, you are so damned embarrassing!"

"Mind your language, Tietra." Was all he could think to say in reply. He was a little shocked, that sort of reaction was just so out of character for her.

"What, "damned"? Like you don't use that and worse all the time! What are you, my dad, now? Good grief, Delita, you are fourteen months older than me! And I suppose you and Juliana have never so much as kissed, hmm?" She paused for a moment, glancing apologetically at Juliana.

"Sorry, Juli, I don't mean to drag you into this, but this is just that this is _so_ typical of _him_!"

She was still pointing accusingly at her brother, when Tietra got up from the settle and stalked into the bedroom. Delita could do nothing but blink at her retreating back, but then he turned back to the offensive.

"I mean it, Ramza, you two are not..." again he was cut off.

"Oh, for the gods' sake, Delita, just shut up! She's right you _are_ embarrassing _and_ you're making a fool of yourself!" Alma jumped up and followed Tietra.

Delita could not see Juliana's amused expression, as she'd deliberately angled her face away, so he threw an arm around her shoulders as he stared resentfully after Alma and Tietra. He was vaguely aware that he _had_ made something of an idiot of himself, all because of one kiss Ramza had stolen from Tietra, during a dance four years before - and it had, after all, been nothing but a brief peck on the lips.

He reflected that he probably resented it more than he should have, in part, at least, because he'd subsequently tried stealing a kiss from Alma, in retaliation, a few days later and been shoved away so hard he'd landed on his behind in an ignominious heap.

Never mind that, he had more important things to worry about, just now.

"Ramza, how much does it cost to throw a Grand Ball?"

"How should I know? Thousands - tens of thousands, possibly." Ramza looked at him quizzically.

"How much would the Dead Men's back pay and discharge bonuses have come to, do you suppose?" Delita deliberately kept his tone light.

"What? What are you talking about?" Ramza just looked confused now.

"The money! The money they were all owed – _legitimately_ owed – that was never paid to them. The money that originally led to them to form the Corpse Brigade! Not more than a few tens of thousands, I'm thinking!" Delita's tone had lost all semblance of lightness now.

Ramza looked at him and actually paled.

"You mean...?" Ramza trailed off, finally understanding the implications of what Delita had said, but not wanting to put it into words. This whole situation was so dishonourable, put like that.

"I mean... Oh, I'm going to find Zalbaag – I need to talk to _him_ about it!" Delita extricated himself from Juliana and marched out.

Ramza watched him go, then suddenly jumped up and raced after him.

* * *

Author's Note:

It wasn't until I was writing Delita's introspective vignette a few weeks ago that it really struck home that the Corpse Brigade would never have even existed if those men and women had just received what they were owed when they returned home from the war. It makes the entire scenario, including Tietra's death, which in turn inspires all of Delita's extremist actions throughout the rest of the game, completely and tragically unnecessary. The game never makes it clear why this particular unit didn't receive what they were owed, either.

As I'm sure you've already worked out, I don't see Delita as an intrinsically bad man, or certainly not a thoroughly evil one - he's far from whiter than white, but I think he's far more interesting and realistic painted in various shades of grey than in pure black (besides, I always saw Dycedarg as the true (human) villain of the piece). At this point, Delita's barely a pale grey, he's possibly even an off-white - but he'll start to nose-dive towards the charcoal end of the scale as the game goes on, of course. I do see the situation where the Corpse Brigade aren't paid and instead decide to start a rebellion as avoidable, which in essence means Tietra's death and so Delita's descent was probably also avoidable.


	14. Chapter 14 - Interrupted Ablutions

Eagrose

"Alma, what the hell? You can_not_ come in here unannounced like this!" Delita sounded genuinely horrified.

He'd been getting washed in his room, when Alma had brazenly slipped in the door, and he had only just got his drying sheet around his bottom half in time to be even slightly decent.

"Oh shut up! I need to talk to you away from Tietra and Ramza." Well that was both interesting and surprising. He tucked the cloth more securely around his waist, he really wasn't about to have to listen to her comments if it slipped.

"I'm _naked_ under this and I _could_ have had someone with me for all you know."

"I saw Juliana slip out of your room not two minutes ago. Were you _entertaining_ more than just her last night?" Alma asked pointedly.

"Jealous?" He asked with an apparently winsome smile.

"Of her and _you_? Don't be so _stupid_!" The tone had enough scorn to wipe the smile right off his face.

Delita wondered why he almost always felt compelled to flirt with Alma when they were alone, it only annoyed her and he nearly always came out the worse from the exchanges. Ah yes, that was it, it annoyed Alma, and annoying Alma was always fun!

"Then are you here as the Lady of the House to tell me that my goings on are a disgrace to the Beoulve Mansion?" He asked, only half-seriously.

"I _should_, but no - other than to warn you not to get her pregnant, I really couldn't care _less_ what you do in the privacy of your own room."

"Then why, exactly, have you invaded that privacy?" He said, folding his arms over his slightly skinny bare chest.

"As I said, I need to talk to you." She said

"Away from Tietra and Ramza. That's unusual - to say the _least_." He had to admit, he was intrigued... and a little worried.

"Yes. You see, I want you to stop being the overbearing, over-protective, interfering ass that you usually are around Tietra, at least when it's Ramza she's with." Alma said, with a certain amount of rancour.

Delita's eyebrows shot up practically to his hairline, then he frowned ferociously.

"Do go on." He said with a coldly sarcastic politeness, as he took her firmly by the shoulders and turned her to face away from him, then stripped and started to wash again. He wasn't liking what he was hearing and if _she_ was going to come in here uninvited, like this, _he_ was going to get right on with what he had been doing. However, he'd be damned if he was going to let her watch him while he did, it was a good half-a-dozen years since the four of them had all regularly shared a bath of an evening!

"I want your help, in fact." Alma said.

Suddenly her tone changed to something far more reasonable, almost... sweet. He didn't know why she bothered, she knew these sorts of tactics worked on her brothers but never on him.

"The only sure way for a penniless woman in our world to be assured of her future is to make a good marriage, wouldn't you agree?"

"Possibly. I'm listening." His voice still held a certain chill.

"Be sensible, Delita," she said, in a more natural tone, "you are going to have to strive hard for years to make your way in life. I know you probably think you can take care of her better than anyone else, but if Tietra married well, and to someone who would honour her as she deserves, you wouldn't need to worry about her... Now be honest, she isn't ever going to make a better match than marrying into House Beoulve and Ramza's already extremely fond of her."

He thought about it as he began to dress and his voice had regained its normal warmth when he next spoke.

"I take your point, Alma, but we're talking about my best friend and my sister. I care about them too much to want to manipulate them, just like I _thought_ you did." He pulled one of the padded under-shirts, that he wore to protect him from his armour's sharper edges, over his head.

"First off, Tietra would need very little manipulation, I can assure you of that. She _adores_ Ramza, whatever she says out loud on the matter. As for Ramza, you know how clueless he is around girls. Tietra's about the only one he can say a whole sentence to without blushing and stammering." Alma sounded fondly exasperated.

"He's not as bad as _that_. He has female friends from the Akademy - he's friendly with all the girls in our squad, for instance. Admittedly, he does seem oblivious of even the pretty ones who would welcome being more than just friends – Ophellia and Sam, for instance both used to try to flirt with him, to no avail."

Delita grinned, remembering just how insensible Ramza had been, a few months ago, when Ophellia had tried several times to attract him while she and Juliana were walking to lessons with the two boys.

"Exactly! He'll need a push to let him see Tietra as a pretty young woman who could be more to him than a one-time childhood playmate." Alma's tone was very decided.

"Alma, he's _sixteen_, and she's _fifteen_. Neither of them are _close_ to being ready for marriage yet. Neither of _us_ would be ready, and we're both a damned sight more level-headed than either of them!" He said.

"I know that. But, like I said, Ramza's going to need some _steering_, so will the rest of the family. And even when it finally gets thorough his thick head, it will still probably take Ramza a year or two for him to pluck up the courage to actually _do_ anything about it." Alma turned back around to look at him, presumably having realised that he was decently covered now.

"Besides, the way my family are, he'll be betrothed to someone else within the next couple of years, if we don't do something. Dycedarg was married by twenty, and Zal was engaged at eighteen, even if that didn't work out." Alma said.

"All right. Look, I'll give it some thought over the next few days and talk to you about it when we get back." He gave the deceptively demure-looking blonde girl an amused look as he finished dressing.

"Trying to be just like big-brother Dycedarg, are you?" He said sardonically.

"I'm not a schemer, usually, you _know_ that, Delita." She gave him a cherubic smile, then her face became serious.

"I know you realise that school isn't easy on Tietra. I always keep an eye out for her, stop any bullying, but not being bullied isn't the same as being treated _well_.

"It's made me realise just what a difficult position she's in, and could be in for the rest of her life. As Ramza's Lady, no-one would ever dare to say an unkind word to her again. It suddenly came to me that_ that_ was exactly what needed to happen, when Ramza joked about it the other evening in the nursery. The really important part about it, that I haven't mentioned, is that I am convinced that they will make each other very happy, or I would _never_ have suggested it."

Delita nodded. He appreciated that she was looking out for his sister, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to do this, it smacked of forcing Tietra and Ramza into something, whatever their feelings. Though he loyally followed Ramza, as his commander, away from military discipline, he and Alma were the more dominant personalities out of the four of them. If they succeeded, it wouldn't be the first time that Ramza and Tietra had been trammelled into doing what the other two actually wanted... but getting them to marry each other – that was very different! Still...

"You're probably right... So... what can you offer _me_ to help _me_ gain wealth and position? A marriage into House Beoulve can't do as much for a man as a girl, but every little helps." He grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows as he pulled on the last of his clothes.

"Ugh, Delita! That's almost as bad as suggesting I marry _Ramza_. Unlike Tietra and Ramza, I honestly do think of you only as a brother. I mean, I _love_ you but it's, so _very_ much, _not_ in any romantic way. I'm certainly not _crazy_ enough to ever contemplate marrying you. I doubt _any_ woman is _that_ insane! Concentrate on Tietra and Ramza - don't forget that, if this works out, you'll be brother to a Lady Beoulve, that must count for something to help with your ambitions." Alma said.

Delita had always known that Alma was at least as practical about life as he was. Ramza and Tietra were the romantics, the idealists. Even discounting the material gain for Tietra, it almost certainly _would_ be a very good match between them, but there really was no need to rush into things right now. Being a practical person, in the long run, he probably would end up helping Alma with this scheme. He wanted the best for his sister and Ramza and he thought this might be it, though it still worried him that _that_ ought to be for them to decide.

Buckling on his armour, he regarded Alma speculatively. Did the lady protest too much when it came to him?... He doubted that. He thought Alma was being absolutely truthful. She loved him - as the youngest of her _four_ big brothers. However, in some ways they could understand each other better than either ever would ever be understood by their own closest sibling.

It was a shame, he supposed, that neither of them _was_ interested in the other, that way. Like Ramza and Tietra they could probably be a good match. Like her, though, what love he felt had nothing romantic about it, though she was very pretty and rumour had it that Dycedarg was going to settle a good-sized estate on her as dowry, once she reached her majority. He half-wished that he could be that calculating. He shrugged at that, incidentally helping his armour settle into place.

"Well, careful you aren't spotted leaving my rooms or you might end up as my unwilling bride, Alma! Crazy or not." He said.

Alma gave him a wicked grin.

"Dycedarg would probably have you horsewhipped instead. I doubt he'd want _you_ as part of the family, for _real_."

Delita frowned and spoke quietly, seriously.

"The same goes for Tietra, you know."

Though he was being serious now, she was still smiling slightly.

"Maybe not; Tietra's _a lot_ more endearing than you are! I think Dycedarg can be made to come to terms with _her_." Her face turned serious. "I thought you understood, Delita, Dycedarg and, to a lesser extent, Zalbaag are _why_, if we are going to manage to make this happen, we have to start _now_."

"Seriously, all this intriguing - you _are_ trying to be little Miss Dycedarg, aren't you?" He opened the door and held it wide for her with a mocking little bow.

As she passed through, she thought she'd have a heart attack, when she came face to face with Ramza, emerging from his own room, next door. Delita also froze momentarily, as he appeared behind her. Then his voice came smooth and convincing.

"Don't worry, Ramza, this is so _very_ much _not_ what it might appear. Alma was up early and happened to see Juliana coming out of my room a while back and she stormed in to tell me that I was never to be so immoral under the roof of Mansion Beoulve ever again. She gave me a real ear-bashing, but we're friends again now. I've apologised to her for my conduct and I also do so now to you."

Alma glanced at Delita, he looked sincerely contrite. Sometimes the boy worried her; he was such a consummate liar when it suited him. She only had to be glad that the mansion's walls were so thick that there was no reason for Ramza to wonder why he hadn't heard anything of the telling-off she'd supposedly given Delita.

"Good." Ramza said after a second, putting his arm around Alma's shoulders and giving her a quick squeeze, while shaking his head disapprovingly at Delita.

"Alma, is Tietra up?" Delita asked as they walked down the hallway towards the front doors.

"No, but I can wake her, if you want to say goodbye."

He considered for a moment, then shook his head.

"No, let her sleep - we're only going to be gone three or four days. We'll see her when we get back. After all, we really will be relegated to nothing more exciting than guarding the battlements, after that. At that point, all four of us will have all the time in the world to spend together – we'll probably end up heartily sick of one another! Make sure you give her my love, though." Delita bent and pressed a brief kiss on Alma's cheek.

"Give her mine as well." Ramza said, hugging Alma and kissing her other cheek.

* * *

Author's Note:

I've wrote this vignette immediately after #3 - the one where the four of them had their "picnic". It seemed to me that Alma was just the sort of girl to stew on what to do about her best friend's crush on her brother and then decide to try to manage their lives for them. She's bossy and interfering, but her heart's in the right place and, well, we could all be a bit extreme in our reactions to things when we were fifteen, after all.

My only real new addition to this is that it used to finish with Ramza's disapproving head-shake outside his bedroom. Delita casually refusing to have Alma wake Tietra to say goodbye, because they'd all be seeing so much of each other very soon, hopefully adds a subtle poignancy, if you know what is coming - works for me, anyway.

Well, I hope you like my three new vignettes. The next one will be the night before the first battle with Milleuda - as I said previously if you've any suggestions for that or any future vignettes, let me know. Other than that, any reviews or constructive criticism are always very gratefully accepted and acted upon wherever possible.


	15. Chapter 15 - Giving Thought

I'd just like to point out that last week I posted up three chapters on the same day. I'm not sure how clear I made that. I've just had a look at the stats for July, for this story, and about twice as many people have looked at chapter 14 as looked at chapters 12 and 13. If you like what I'm writing, and you only looked at the last chapter I posted, last week, you may want to go back and read the chapters you missed (12 & 13). (Or not - it's up to you of course!)

This vignette does, very briefly, reference something from chapter 13, though.

* * *

South of the Mandalia Plains

Argath had first watch, which meant Delita and Ramza had the tent to themselves, for once.

"Why did you suddenly start being so nice to Argath?" Delita asked, as they lay in the darkness. "As far as I've seen, he's still as big an arse as ever."

"The Headmaster." Ramza said. "He made me realise that whether I like Argath or not, as long as he's attached to the squad, I have to make him welcome and try to integrate him."

Delita was quiet for a moment.

"It's not that easy, you know - not unless Argath's prepared to put in a hell of a lot more effort as well. Plus, the rest of us have all known each other for nearly four years, or three and a half, in my case. It would take more than a couple of weeks for him to integrate. Especially since I'm hardly the only one who thinks he's an arse. I include _you_ in that, if you hadn't already worked that one out."

"All right – so I also think he's a snobbish stuck-up arse. So what? Life is more pleasant if we all at least make some effort to get along!" Ramza said.

Delita felt like that last statement was aimed squarely at him.

"I wish you'd stop trying to be so damned _nice_ all the time!" Delita said testily.

"And _I_ wish you wouldn't get so damned irritable!" Ramza shot back in a similar tone.

The both turned on their bedrolls to face away from one another. After a few minutes, Ramza spoke.

"Delita, you and Juli...?" He didn't even know exactly what he wanted to ask. He just knew that as their captain he ought to... No he didn't even know exactly what he ought to do. It was about making an effort to all get along like he'd said to Delita. If they...

"You know, that's really not your business, Ramza." Delita's tone was surprisingly mild. "If it helps, yes I know, this time, it isn't some casual tumble with a tavern wench and, yes, she says she is making sure she doesn't end up pregnant. Beyond that, this is the end of the discussion." Delita had shocked his friend; usually they talked about everything.

* * *

Delita stared off into the night, fuming gently. Ramza had no right... He'd already _apologised_ to Ramza, the previous morning, for spending a night with Juliana under the roof of Mansion Beoulve. Apologised huh! It _had_ been a necessary diversion, but he didn't like that he'd done it when he felt no remorse and hadn't seen any necessity for an apology. He knew he _was_ being touchy tonight, and that that was part of it. He knew he should apologise _again, _but the unnecessary apology would have to cover _this_ transgression – he wasn't making another.

The whole thing with Juliana was stupidly complicated. While they were alone together everything was great. The moment Juli started thinking about the situation, it all started to become _way_ more complex than he felt it ever should be. They were too young to be thinking about settling down – they were having fun and he liked her an awful lot. Why did she have to make it more complicated than that?

He knew the answer, of course. She'd lost, no get it right, he'd _taken_ her virginity - that most precious and _saleable _commodity of noblemen's daughters. Not that he'd taken anything without her enthusiastic consent, still... If it somehow became known, she was automatically damaged goods; a girl who had done what she had could never make a "good" marriage... presuming that it _did_ become known. It didn't _have_ to become known, of course, and, in the long run, who knew what might happen between the two of them?

He thought it was ironic the way the older generation of nobles _so_ looked down their noses at people, even the very successful ones, who were "in trade", yet treated their children like something to be bought and sold on the open market. The currency they demanded for them might, more often, be social standing than gil, but a little money, as long as it was "old money" was never rejected either. Poor Juli...

Gods! He should never have touched her! Ramza was right to question him. He might not _feel_ like he had done something wrong but, deep down, he knew he had. He'd wronged her in a way that only marriage could put right and it couldn't be put right by marriage to a near-penniless commoner either... Not that he was ready to make her that offer, even if it would have helped.

_Hell, hell, bloody hell and damnation! I've been a completely selfish bastard, haven't I? I just need to remember that my _brain_ is the organ I need to try using, for once, when it comes to women! Or, if I can't manage that, the least I could do is just stick to the casual damned tavern wenches I mentioned to Ramza._ Those were his last thoughts before going to sleep.

* * *

Ramza was certain that Delita was no more asleep than he was.

Delita was right, of course, it was none of Ramza's business what went on between him and Juliana. Perhaps he should apologise? Delita was also right to question why Ramza was making such an effort to be nice to a boy who wouldn't know decency if it hit him square between the eyes.

The headmaster had made him feel guilty that he hadn't been more welcoming and hadn't encouraged the squad to be the same way, but the headmaster wasn't the one who was having to put up with Argath. Or had it been a trick question – that one about Argath's lack of integration into the squad - "And do you feel that this is his fault or yours?"

At the time, Ramza had seen that as a question designed to make him take responsibility for the "rogue element" that had entered his team but what if it had, instead, been meant to make Ramza think about whether he really _should_ be trying to take responsibility for every little thing?

Had it been meant to make him acknowledge that, even when you were a leader, you couldn't control every aspect of life? Especially those "aspects of life" that were human beings. People had their own flaws, priorities and personalities which no-one but them could fully control, no matter how "exalted" your position. He suddenly wondered if there had been _one_ right answer to that question of the headmaster's.

Was he over-analysing? The headmaster had appeared satisfied with Ramza's answer, and not everything _had_ to be a trick question. Perhaps he had just wanted to prompt Ramza to do his best to resolve the Argath situation.

Did it matter anyway? Tomorrow they'd deal with whoever and whatever they found at this brigands' hideout, then they'd go back to Eagrose. Argath would, no doubt, go back to the Marquis' employ and he, Delita and the rest would find themselves patrolling the battlements of Eagrose Castle for a few days, then, whether or not there was a doubly-damned Grand Ball, they'd go back to the Akademy for a few weeks until they graduated.

Maybe he should ask Delita what _he_ thought? He was reluctant to - it would mean admitting that he kept trying to second-guess himself, which was never a good thing to do as a leader... or was it? Shouldn't one analyse one's own actions for faults so that one could try to avoid them in future?

He so desperately wanted to be a good leader, to be the sort of man his father had been. Was that what made him question himself all the damned time?

He turned over and opened his mouth to tell Delita what an idiot he was being - that he was half-way to driving himself crazy, this evening, and that he needed some sensible advice. Possibly, he instead needed something that would render him unconscious until he stopped questioning his own actions, so that he could get some damned sleep!

He heard a soft snore – the snore of someone who wasn't lying in the dark questioning every little detail of an answer he'd given nearly a week ago to what was probably a throwaway question.

Ramza turned over and did his best to settle himself, and tell himself that this was merely nerves and that these were natural the night before an important battle. It took a while, but he did eventually fall into a light, uneasy sleep.

* * *

Author's Note:

Ramza's suddenly gone a bit neurotic, I know. However, I think it isn't completely out of character for someone who is _so_ desperate to prove himself.


	16. Chapter 16 - A Nose for Trouble

Brigands' Den

_Around noon, immediately after the battle against Milleuda  
_

Ramza couldn't bring himself to look at Argath, even as he Cured his broken nose.

The nose was not an injury from the fight against the Corpse Brigade, but from a punch delivered a minute or so after the severely wounded female Knight, had limped away. Oddly, it had not been Ramza or Delita who had delivered the punch, but Hildegard.

Hildegard had been quite badly injured during the fight. After Sam had Cured her, she had walked up to Argath, while the others were still looking at him as if he had grown a second head, punched him hard in the face, and walked away again, all without saying a word. Ramza had stared after her, shocked, while Delita had begun to grin.

After a moment, Argath exploded, blood dripping from his nose as he demanded indistinctly:

"You're her captaid, Ramza, ared't you supposed to baintaid disciplide better thad that?"

"And if Hildy had _in fact _done anything_ wrong_, then I suppose I _would_ have to think about disciplining her." Ramza had answered in a cool, hard voice.

Argath had gaped at him while Delita's grin had taken on a hint of viciousness. Ramza had sighed deeply and cast Cure on their unwelcome guest - the other boy had to be in a fit shape to fight, should they come up against a group of random fiends that afternoon.

"Come on, everyone" he called out to his squad, "let's quickly grab a bite to eat and then head for home."

When Ramza finally brought himself to glance at the other boy, for a moment, to check that the healing had worked, he discovered that it had... sort of. He idly wondered if he should feel any guilt that he had a profound sense of satisfaction that Argath's nose would never be perfectly straight again. He felt not one jot!

* * *

_That evening, encamped on the Southern Mandalia Plains_

Argath spent a fair amount of time that evening trying to justify his words and behaviour during and immediately after the battle. He managed to be almost as offensive, while he did that, as he had to the woman, that afternoon.

Delita had tried going after the knight, once they had all got over the shock of what Argath had said, and Hildy's reaction to it. He had, literally, had the Hi-Potion he had tried to give to her, thrown back in his face. Ramza had thought Delita was brooding on that but instead, he had apparently been thinking up a way to get at Argath.

"Ramza, since you're the one whose mother was a Master white mage, you may know the answer to a question I have." Delita said, his voice almost a drawl.

He was lying on the ground by the camp-fire, with his hands linked behind his head, feigning nonchalance.

"If Hildy knocks Argath's teeth down his throat when she punches him _this time_, is there a spell of the Cure family that will regrow them, or does he have to stay all gummy, like someone's great-grandpa, for the rest of his life?"

Hildegard had certainly been eyeing Argath balefully, as if she was thinking about hitting him again, until that question. Much of the tension in the female part of the group drained at that, though, with all four girls trying to hide giggles as Argath looked daggers at them and Delita. He moved so that he was sitting further away from the main group.

"That's enough Delita." Ramza said quietly, sounding more weary than any of the others had ever heard him.

He had earlier sat down by the fire, his head in his hands and hadn't moved since. Delita shot back to a sitting position.

"You'd defend...?" Ramza raised his head and interrupted whatever diatribe Delita sounded like he was beginning.

"I'm defending no-one. Nor am I condoning anyone _goading_ other people, when everyone's already on edge."

"I'm not! I wouldn't..."

"Think about how well we know each other, before you tell me you wouldn't do that, Delita."

"I _despise_ prejudice, Ramza."

"I _know_ that. It's one of your best qualities." Ramza gave a tired half-smile, though he still just wished everyone would shut up including, or perhaps especially, Delita. Delita didn't.

"This whole conflict is being perpetuated because of prejudice. _Their_ side, because they seem to have decided that all aristocrats are the same, and that all must be held accountable for what the minority have done to them. _Our_ side," and there was an odd, bitter note in Delita's voice and a twist to his lips when he said "our", "because _he's_ hardly the only person who thinks that the nobility have a gods-given right to treat peasants however they wish and that it would lower _our_ dignity to try to treat with the Brigade to end this."

Ramza shook his head at that.

"Six months ago, when the Brigade was simply the remnant of the Company of Dead Men we might have treated with them. More recently... no. They're no longer just that few dozen, they've attracted a much larger following, now. A following who are essentially an uncontrollable rabble, baying for the nobility's blood. Would they _all_ abide by any treaty Wiegraf or his remaining Lieutenants agreed to?... And why is it _me_ giving _you _the political lecture for once?" Ramza asked that last with a slight laugh.

When Delita's reply came, it was hesitant and it sounded like he was weighing every word. He was obviously working things out in his head, even as he spoke.

"Because I've been over-simplifying things. I've just been dismissing Wiegraf's followers as the "peasants' revolt" that everyone calls them. But you're absolutely right, most real peasants have subservience far too deeply ingrained to be taking part in this and those that don't are still far better off than they've ever been, since the black death eight years ago. They don't _need_ to rebel.

"It's poor men and women, from towns, especially those with a little education, that _would_ become the main-stay of this sort of rebellion. Those men at Dorter hadn't just moved there, they were _from_ Dorter. I knew that, and yet I didn't really consider the implications. Because of the way this started, I've only been considering it as a rebellion of the ex-Dead Men, as if those following them didn't have much influence on events.

"Gods, what's made me so _stupid_ lately? If _you've_ got a better handle on the situation than _me_..." Delita turned to his friend, full of contrition. "Oh gods, I'm so sorry, Ramza, I really_ really _didn't mean that the way it must have sounded!"

Ramza tried to look offended, then began to grin wryly. After the day they'd all had he was going to make every effort to keep the friction within the group as low as possible. Besides there was a certain amount of truth in what Delita said – he _never_ came close to having the same grip on the political situation as Delita... except today. Today had been a very strange, unpleasant, unsettling day altogether!

"Don't worry about it." He said. "It was something that the headmaster said a few days ago that made me draw those conclusions, you know I don't think about politics without prompting. You can relax, you still take the laurels for cleverness." Ramza's tone might have had, _just a hint_ of sarcasm when he said that last.

Whether or not Ramza had meant that sarcasm as a reproach, Delita felt his cheeks grow warm. He was suddenly glad that, with his olive complexion, it was impossible to notice a blush in light this poor. He noticed Ramza give a jaw-popping yawn.

"I'm so tired." Ramza said. "Do I have a watch tonight?"

The question was aimed at Delita, who as the second in command kept the watch rota.

"No, that's part of why you're so tired – you had middle, last night, remember?" Delita then raised his voice, to make sure everyone heard. "It's Ophellia first, Argath middle and I'm on last."

Ramza sat quietly for another minute or two then got up to go to bed. He was half-way to their tent, when he stopped and turned around.

Delita, he saw, had moved so that he was now lying with his head pillowed in Juliana's lap and was talking quietly with her.

"Delita, I need a word." Ramza almost barked out – suddenly, the consummate Cadet-Captain. He saw Delita roll his eyes at Juli, then scramble to his feet.

"Yes sir." Delita gave him an infinitely sloppy salute. Ramza, unamused, just took him by the arm to lead him away from the fire.

"Delita, Argath took a watch last night - so let me guess - by _your_ rota, Argath's on middle watch tomorrow night and _every_ night, as long as he's with us, hmm?"

"Well... yes - everyone always hates it - though he always _was_ allocated to middle _tomorrow_..." Delita didn't sound particularly contrite.

"Delita, I know he's a completely insufferable, gormless little _tit_, and after what he said today, I would have been incredibly happy to have been the one who punched him but, as Captain, I couldn't do that. And however much it seems justified, I can't let you give him all the crappy jobs, either. That would be tantamount to bullying." Ramza's face was in shadow, but his voice sounded all but pained as well as slightly disbelieving. It was almost as if he _himself _couldn't quite believe that he was giving Delita an order to ease up on the "little tit".

Delita just gave a heavy sigh and went back to the fire.

"I mixed the watches up. It's tomorrow, that Argath's on middle watch." He called out. "Ophellia's still first, me middle, Juli last." Even though everyone had to know exactly why he'd been forced to correct his "mix-up", he wasn't about to acknowledge that openly.

Dissatisfied with everything that had happened since the fight had begun that morning, Ramza headed for bed, feeling thankful that tomorrow couldn't possibly be as bad as today.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry, but I'm not sure why it's Hildegard, specifically, who punches Argath - mostly I wanted him to get punched, and it seemed less predictable if it wasn't one of the boys who did it. I could come up with the requisite back story, I suppose, but it's a bit late to add it now, I guess.

Oh and in case anyone picked up on it, it just seemed _right_, given the game's nose-less sprites, to make it a broken nose he suffered. I have a rather twisted sense of humour - sometimes it just finds its way out in a peculiar manner. I kind of wish I could work a reference to noses or smelling into every vignette from now on. I should probably try to resist that temptation! (I probably shouldn't have given in to it when I named this chapter, either!)


	17. Chapter 17 - The Watcher, Waiting

I got a bit sidetracked, over the weekend and wrote "Just Another Sellsword" before I finished this next vignette (it's a one-shot about Ramza, a year after Ziekden Fortress, telling the story of how he ends up in Gafgarion's little crew - if you want to read it after this, just click through to my profile to find it).

* * *

Mandalia Plains

_About 4 hours from Eagrose_

"Look up there." Delita said, pointing to the only hill for several miles. "I swear there's someone on chocoback watching us. A woman, I think."

It was about an hour before dark, and there was the most magnificent sunset behind that hill. If Delita really had seen a woman riding, it could only have been in silhouette. Ramza couldn't see anyone and said so.

"No, she watched us, just for a few moments, then rode off hell-for-leather." Delita said.

Ramza didn't say that he thought that Delita was seeing things, though he did. Why would some woman on a chocobo be watching a bunch of knights apprentice?

It was about another quarter of an hour before Ramza got his answer. They saw a chocobo running towards them at full-tilt, a young woman on its back. Shading his eyes against the low sun and squinting, he made out the figure of his sister. What was _she_ doing here? Oh gods, had something happened? Once she was close enough for him to make out her features he could be in no doubt that something was, indeed, very wrong.

He picked up his pace to a near-run and, after a moment, Delita caught him up and they dashed towards Alma.

"Alma, what's the matter? What are you doing here?" Her brother asked her.

"What's happened, Alma? Where's Tietra? Why isn't she with you?" Delita asked at the same time.

Ramza began to help her down off the chocobo but as Delita asked why Tietra wasn't with her, she froze and stared at him with wide eyes for about half a second, then burst into tears. Things were always bad when Alma cried, she prided herself on not being "some silly girly", as she put it, who cried at the drop of a hat.

Ramza put his arms around her and patted her back, consolingly, as she cried into his shoulder, but Delita hadn't failed to notice that it was his questions and not Ramza's that had prompted the tears. He came up behind her and patted her on the shoulder, as well, but tried to get answers at the same time.

"Alma, please stop crying. This has to do with Tietra, hasn't it? _Please_, tell me what's happened to her."

Argath and the girls caught up with them as Alma took a couple of deep breaths and began to speak, giving a rather rambling narrative, which was occasionally interrupted by small sobs and deep shuddering breaths.

"The Brigade... the Corpse Brigade came to the Mansion. After you left, Dycedarg reassigned most of our guards to the Castle itself, they were short-handed and he said he feared an attack _there_. That's not where they attacked, though. They came to our house, yesterday, just after Tietra and I got home from school. We were doing our homework and two men just walked into the library and grabbed us.

"We both screamed for help, but Tietra's so small, the one who had her just picked her up and carried her out. I struggled, so the man had to drag me. I kept shouting and shouting and just before we got to the choco, Zal came and saved me... killed the man. The one who had Tietra had already ridden away, though..." Her voice broke again, and she began to sob in earnest and Ramza once more took hold of her and tried to soothe her.

As Alma finished her story, Delita's normally dark-brown eyes looked orange-red as the unshed tears in them reflected the sunset that he was staring, unseeing, towards. Juliana made as if to go to him, but suddenly Alma wrenched herself away from her brother and flung herself at Delita. As she wrapped her arms tight around him she could be heard to say brokenly, several times, "I'm so sorry, Delita, so very very sorry."

Delita had hugged her to him in an automatic response, but when his voice came it was strange and barely more than a whisper. He looked at Ramza, over Alma's head, as he spoke.

"It's all right Alma. We'll get her back, won't we, Ramza? We _have_ to get her back!"

Ramza, a tear now running down one of his own cheeks, just bit his lip and nodded.

Alma had buried her face against his chest, still crying, but Delita put gentle fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to look at him.

"Alma, come on, I need you to stop crying and _think_. Does anyone know where they've taken her?" He asked urgently.

"No... I _don't_ _know_." She quavered. "That's why I came. Dycedarg was attacked and badly injured." She looked over at her brother. "Don't worry, the medics say he'll be fine, he just needs a few days bed-rest, but he and Zal won't tell me _anything_. I don't know if they think I'd try to ride off on my own and rescue her by _myself_." She made an indistinct noise that could have been either a strangled laugh or a sob.

Turning her face back to look up at Delita, she said:

"I thought if I could get you to hurry home... I thought, if _you_ asked – you're her _actual_ brother, they'd _surely_ tell you whatever they know."

Another thought had finally penetrated Ramza's worry for Tietra. His brain had finally processed what she'd said about riding off on her own... he suddenly realised something. He took his sister by the shoulder, pulled her away from Delita and turned her to face him.

"So only _yesterday_ members of the Corpse Brigade were at our home, they broke in and, by the sound of it, tried to kill our Lord brother. They kidnapped Tietra, damned near kidnapped _you_ and today you thought you'd come out for a _nice_ ride, _alone, _when some of them may be still roaming the local countryside! Are you as _stupid_ as that makes you _seem_?" His voice, as well as his anger, rose as he spoke.

Even if the increase in volume hadn't made it obvious just how infuriated he was becoming, using even a very mild swear-word, like "damned", with women present, was a sure indication that Ramza was near the end of his tether.

Alma's bottom lip began to tremble again. Ramza noticed it and his face seemed to harden all the more.

"Don't you dare threaten more tears to try to get out of this, Alma Beoulve - that won't work on me right now, I'm far too angry with you!"

With her emotions as fragile as they were, that, of course, simply made Alma start to cry again. Delita stepped forward and put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, still weeping gently.

"Don't Ramza, you're the one _making_ her cry. She's only been a bit thoughtless because she's so worried..." Delita was cut off by the still furious Ramza.

"A _bit_ thoughtless? She's been a _lot_ foolish and reckless!" He took a deep breath - it only calmed him a little. He spoke to Alma again, much more quietly, though it was through clenched teeth this time.

"Did you at least let someone know where you were going?"

"I left a note." She said in a small voice, not meeting his eyes.

"A note – Zal and Dycedarg are going to _go berserk_! Once we have Tietra back, and Dycedarg is well enough, I am going to have a long talk with him about getting you the strictest, most dragon-like duenna anyone has ever _heard_ of! One who won't let you out of her sight – not that I think any poor woman would have a hope in _hell_ of stopping _you_ from running amok!

"Now, you get back on that choco..." He trailed off, having turned towards the beast she had ridden. "You brought _Vesta_... of all the irresponsible..." He trailed off. "Why _not_ Nemea? Nemea's _yours_, for the gods' sake!"

Vesta was Tietra's chocobo. Tietra was a couple of inches shorter and more slightly built than Alma, and hence her chocobo was rather smaller than Alma's. Vesta was still a fairly young, skittish bird and she was speedy but had terrible stamina. There was no chance that she could run all the way back to Eagrose that night and, unless the bird ran, it would be hours after dark before Alma got there.

"Nemea has a bruised hock, and it's not like I could just take one of Zal or Dycedarg's chocobos without their permission." Her voice trembled a little but she didn't begin to cry again, as she said. "It wasn't as if Tietra could _use_ Vesta, so, of course, I asked the stable lad to saddle _her_." Alma said. After a few moments, she began to look slightly mutinous - now that she had finally stopped weeping, she was beginning to feel indignation about Ramza's treatment of her.

Ramza's temper was starting to cool, anyway. He put a hand to his head and stared off into the distance for a few moments, looking pained. When it came, his voice was low and while it was strained and still held something like a tinge of anger, that anger no longer seemed to be directed at his sister.

"Tietra... Dear gods!... Alma, don't you understand that if they took you as _well_... I can't stand the thought that _one_ of you... if something were to happen to _both_ of you..." He sighed. "I'm sorry I shouted, but you _should_ have stayed safe at home."

"I know, I realise that now, I just didn't think... I needed to _see_ the two of you. Zal's tried to be reassuring, but it's not the same." She said.

Ramza sighed again, then nodded, giving her a small smile that didn't quite touch his eyes, worry getting in the way of warmth. He understood what Alma meant only too well. Had Tietra been taken when _he_ were the only other one of the four of them at home, probably one of the first things he himself would have done was seek out Alma and Delita.

"Oh why did Nemea have to go lame just _now_?" He demanded of no-one in particular. "She's sturdy, I could have sent you straight back. You'd have got home after dark, but Delita could had ridden her with you – that should have kept you safe, and that way, he could have found out any details our brothers won't tell you_,_ _tonight_!

"Lets walk again." He continured. "There's less that an hour until full dark and we're on the edge of the woods. There's no moon tonight, so we'll have to stop soon, but even a few minutes of walking this evening is a few closer to Eagrose in the morning." He gestured at the chocobo. "Will you ride, Alma, or do you want me to lead Vesta?"

Alma went to her mount and took the reins, saying she'd lead her. He let her, moving to her side to walk with her. Delita came and silently walked on the other side of the bird, staring only at the ground as he walked and looking as if his mind was very far away.

As they continued, Ramza tried to find out if there was anything else his sister hadn't told them. However, it appeared that her seemingly slightly incoherent retelling had actually been pretty accurate, she could add nothing of real import.

* * *

A couple of hours later Juliana was trying very hard not to feel jealous. It was clear that Alma was both distraught about Tietra and worried about Delita and so she was seeking to comfort, and to be comforted by the only person who felt Tietra's abduction even more deeply than she did. But, damn it, the girl had been glued to Delita's side ever since they had made camp – almost literally!

She knew - she'd always known - that Ramza, Delita and their sisters were extremely close. Unusually for the Akademy, each of the two boys wrote to their sister at least twice a week. Delita had once told her that they took it in turns to write to their own sister every other day because a letter to one of the girls was the same as a letter to both. She wrote to her own family two or three times a month, that was fairly typical of the other Akademicians in their year. Certainly, once they they had completed first year, it became uncommon to write much more than weekly.

She knew, from the look that Ophellia was giving her, that her glowering face had not gone unnoticed. Ophellia nodded pointedly to the far side of the camp opposite to Delita and his newly acquired shadow. Juliana got up and followed her friend into the night.

"You need to stop it, Juli." Ophellia said very seriously. "You've sat for the last hour with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp! His sister's been taken by people who could be doing _anything_ to her, so he's clinging to someone familiar who is as good as another sister to him. So _please_ don't make any comments like the one you did in the Siedge Wield a couple of weeks back, or I may have to do a Hildy on you."

Juliana put a hand to her nose and looked a little indignant, but then she began to grin delightedly at her friend, remembering the incident the previous day. Her smile soon dropped, as she glanced back at Delita, who was still sitting staring glassily into the fire, his arm loosely around Alma. Alma's head was resting in the crook of his shoulder, her eyes shut.

"I know that I'm being a terrible bitch, it's just... He's been... odd with me for a couple of days now, Ophellia - blowing hot and cold. I... I don't think I'd be feeling _this_ jealous if I was more sure of him." She looked back at them, annoyance showing again. "Shouldn't Ramza be bothered by the pair of them being like that, he _is_ her big brother!" She burst out, then bit her lip and looked at the ground, as Ophellia gave her a flat stare.

"If Delita starts kissing her, then you, and possibly Ramza, _may_ have something to worry about – having his arm around her like that, in these circumstances, is nothing to get so distressed about, I'm _certain_!" Ophellia said.

Juliana only nodded and headed back to the fireside.

Twenty minutes later, she was glad, nevertheless, when Ramza declared that they should all probably get an early night, as he wanted them ready to march as soon as the sun breached the horizon. As Alma was to sleep in the girls' tent, which effectively removed Delita's new favourite thing to cuddle from his grasp, Juliana was more than happy to acquiesce to Ramza's order.

* * *

Author's Note:

Well this is kind of the beginning of the end, I suppose, the main parts of the story of Chapter 1 of the game are almost all in place now. By the next one, Argath will be gone, and that'll be the last time we see Alma for a great long while too.


	18. Chapter 18 - After Delita's Fury

This picks up right at the end of the cut-scene "Delita's Fury", where Delita begins to almost strangle Ramza then punches Argath (everyone should always punch Argath, as soon as they see him, in my opinion). Having said, when I started this, that I wouldn't rehash cut-scenes, I'm doing just that with the first lines that Argath and Ramza say (the only real problem with that is that my version of Ramza, since he doesn't do pseudo-Shakespearean dialogue, should be saying something like "Go! Now!" instead of "Begone!", but never mind). After that, it's all original stuff, just as usual.

* * *

Beoulve Mansion, Eagrose

Once Ramza was reasonably certain that Delita would not attack Argath again, he cautiously let him go, though he stayed tensed to grab him again. Thankfully, with nothing more than a parting word of scorn for Argath, Delita stalked off.

A moment before, Delita had punched Argath so hard that the blond boy had landed on his back on the front steps of the Mansion, blood flowing freely from a split lip. Ramza, fuming, had then told Argath, for the second time, to get out of his sight. The other boy did not. Instead, after getting to his feet he turned to Ramza with an inscrutable smirk.

"The Brigade makes its base at Ziekden. Your Lord Brother told me himself. You've no hope of breaching the fortress from the fore. Their defences are too strong. A rear assault is your only chance. Best of luck, my soft-hearted friend. You'll need it."

"Begone!" Ramza said, close to punching the other boy himself.

Argath walked a few paces, stopped and made an obviously exaggerated shrug, then half-turned to face Ramza again.

"Of course, after what I saw last evening, I'd be more concerned for my _own_ sister, were I you. Now _there's_ a fortress that I think it would take very little effort for your low-born friend to breach." He gave an unpleasant laugh. "That's assuming he hasn't already, of course!

"Then again, I suppose the idea of further pollution to the blood of the Beoulves isn't likely to bother _you_. From what I can gather, what would another bastard of even more impure blood be to this, once great, House? It's not as if they aren't already used to concealing the existence of two, is it? A base-born bastard birthed from a base-born bastard - is there a word for one of those, I wonder?" Having finally delivered the insults he'd been contemplating for the whole of the previous evening, Argath's smirk turned decidedly self-satisfied.

The slur on his sister was almost the final straw. Ramza made as if to grab for the other boy's throat, then restrained himself, just before his fingers found purchase. He balled his hands into tight fists and slowly returned them to his sides.

"Were I you, Argath, I'd leave now! Otherwise, I'm likely to do something that will make the punch Delita gave you will feel like a soft caress, in comparison!" As he said that, Ramza's voice shook with the effort he was making not to give in and respond with violence.

Argath's face grew even more smug, before he did, finally, leave. Ramza watched the him swagger nonchalantly away and wondered why he hadn't just given Argath a damned good hiding while he had the chance.

* * *

When upset, Delita was, more often than not, to be found in the stables, so that was where Ramza headed to look for him. When he found him, Delita had his arms around his chocobo's neck, his face so close to the bird that nose touched the soft feathers. Ramza thought he must be crying, but when he touched the other boy's shoulder gently and Delita whipped around, his eyes were dry.

Ramza and Alma had both wept for Tietra, but the closest he has seen Delita come to it was the unshed tears, sitting in his eyes, the previous evening. In some ways that was more worrying. Ramza knew that Delita was still bottling his feelings up. When he occasionally did that, they still found their way out eventually – often explosively. Yes, certainly explosively, Ramza thought, unconsciously touching his still-sore neck.

"For whatever reason, Argath decided to tell me that Dycedarg told him that the Brigade seem likely to make for Ziekden with Tietra. We have to decide what to do." He said.

"All we have to do is _go_!" Delita said, turning to stride towards the tack room. Ramza grabbed his arm to halt him.

"I'm not saying we shouldn't go, Delita, but we need to think this through and we need to make preparations. I need you to help me, though - you're better at planning. First of all, we need to decide whether we should even trust Argath that the Brigade are at Ziekden. After what he said - including the _vile_ things he said after you left - I don't trust that he spoke a word of truth."

"It's simple, Ramza, we just go to Dycedarg and Zal, ourselves, and _ask_." Delita said, sounding as if he was speaking to someone with less mental capacity than one of the chocobos.

"They'd just order us not to go. Neither of them would tell us, if they got a hint that we'd try to rescue her ourselves." Ramza said quietly.

Delita sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Then we just go to Ziekden. It's the only lead we have. Besides, an arsenal like that is very defensible, it makes sense for them to use it." He headed again for the tack room again, this time with Ramza following.

"That's what I think, as well. We'll have to be very careful, though. No casting Fire - the whole thing is basically one huge powder magazine." Ramza said thoughtfully, a troubled expression on his face at the thought of the potential for disaster.

Delita shrugged at that.

"I'm no mage, so that's not an issue for me. So we can go_..._ _now_?" He gestured to the door with the reins he now held in his hand. Ramza held up a hand as if to halt him.

"Should we ask the girls to come along? We haven't been directly ordered _not _to go, but then again, we are supposed to be beginning our guard duty in the morning, so I think not being here to do it will probably count as disobeying orders. It might be enough to have all six of us expelled, our future careers destroyed. I don't care about that for myself," he hastened to add, "but the four of them barely know Tietra..." Delita interrupted.

"I don't know! I can't think about all of this! I just want to _go_ and try to get my sister back!"

"I _know_! Look, let's go and have a quick word with the girls, then we leave - whether or not they decide to come with us."

"It's a delay we don't need Ramza!" Yet even as he said that, Delita hung the reins back on the wall, with a deep sigh.

"For all we know every last remnant of the Brigade is there, Delita – Dycedarg said nearly a score. I worry that six of us isn't nearly enough for that, but I'm damned sure two won't be. Quick won't necessarily get her back, better-planned might! _Please,_ Delita! Help me help Tietra! If we're going to get her back she needs both of us to _focus_!" As soon as he'd said that, Ramza could almost see Delita taking himself in hand, trying to make himself think about the practical aspects of the rescue.

"All right, all right! I'll go and find Alma and see if she can arrange for provisions for a couple of weeks, just in case it takes longer than expected. You go and talk to the girls..." His face took on a far-away look for a moment, then he seemed to come back to himself. "You're right, you have to ask them if they are prepared to do this, not order them. I know it's _my_ sister we're talking about, but I'm too het up to do it right. I'll be better doing the practical stuff like the food, the chemists' supplies and sorting out clean clothes and bed rolls." As he spoke, Delita rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, as if he was tired - he probably was, both of them had got next-to-no sleep the night before.

"If I stick to the practical stuff, I can probably manage to at least focus a little." He continued, wearily.

"Delita, I know Tietra is _your _sister, but you know I love her, as much as you do, don't you? Come hell or high water, we will get her back!" Ramza said quietly but vehemently. He gripped his friend's shoulder for a moment, in a wordless gesture of comfort and support, then he turned to head back to the house. As he reached the stable door, Delita's voice stopped him.

"Ramza, wait. I know Dycedarg's your brother but, truthfully_,_ what do youthink about what Argath said about him not being willing to hold back the army for the sake of one common girl." Delita's voice was unnaturally empty of emotion.

Ramza turned back, his face full of doubt.

"Dycedarg said that Tietra was like a sister, that he wouldn't abandon her." His voice, like his face, was not confident.

"Ramza, _please_. Now is not the time to thoughtlessly toe the Beoulve family line. With everything you know of your brother, do you believe him?" Delita's voice was pleading, he so clearly wanted reassurance. Ramza tried his best to be both reassuring and honest.

"This is a military operation and Zalbaag is now the General, not Dycedarg. I honestly believe that what Dycedarg _said_ he feels for Tietra, Zalbaag truly does. I'm confident that Zal will do everything humanly possible to secure her safety before the final assault – absolutely everything he would, had it been Alma that was taken, not Tietra. However, if we can come at the fortress from the rear and pull her out first, then so much the better. It will make things much easier for Zal, too."

Delita hadn't missed the fact that Ramza had essentially sidestepped the question about Dycedarg, yet what he had said was true. Besides, how much control over military matters could a currently bed-ridden civilian like Dycedarg have? It was also completely true that Zalbaag made little distinction in the way he treated Alma and Tietra - he usually showed an equal amount of affection for both. Ramza surely had to be right in what he said about Zalbaag, Delita thought.

In the case of Tietra's kidnapping and the operation against the Corpse Brigade, thank the gods that it _was_ Zalbaag in charge, not Dycedarg, Delita told himself. He tried to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that said that whenever Zalbaag was nominally in charge of something, you always found Dycedarg pulling his strings behind the scenes. He shook his head. Surely that was an exaggeration? Zalbaag was more than just Dycedarg's puppet and military mouthpiece... wasn't he?

Though Delita had little regard for religion, he suddenly found himself praying - praying that he was wrong to be so doubting of the elder Beoulves. He prayed that Tietra was still alive and unhurt and that, even if Zalbaag and his whole army couldn't get her out safely, that he and Ramza could find a way to work a miracle.

He forced his mind away from his sister, trying only to think of the mundane aspects of preparing for this expedition.

* * *

Alma was, apparently, in Dycedarg's sick-room. Delita knocked briefly and went in. He frowned when he saw her sitting demurely by Dycedarg's bed, working on some embroidery. It appeared that Dycedarg was dozing. He beckoned to Alma and retreated to the outer chamber.

"Embroidery?" He said, in a low incredulous voice, as she followed him out. Even as upset and distracted as he was, this was so out of the ordinary that he had noticed and couldn't help but comment on it. She gave a heavy sigh.

"Dycedarg insisted, after my "little escapade" yesterday, that I stay within sight of his bed all day and do something _ladylike._" She said the last word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

"I'll try to remember to call you "my lady", then. Anyway..." He shook his head rapidly, as if to clear it. "We need your help. It's too complicated to go into the whys and wherefores but Ramza and I, and probably the girls, are going to try to rescue Tietra ourselves." He trailed off warily, thinking he understood that look in her eye. Sure enough she said, pretty much, exactly what he expected.

"Let me come too. I won't be any bother and I can make myself useful, I promise. I'm good at that Aegis spell that Elder Simon taught us at Orbonne – that could be incredibly helpful for fights."

"And how many times could you cast it, in a fight?" He asked, knowing, full well, that the answer was once.

She just scowled at him, not replying. He went on, implacably.

"Alma, we don't have time for an argument - I want to be gone within the hour. To do that, we'll need field rations for at least ten days for six people. I came to you because I was hoping you could sweet-talk Cook into getting someone to put them together for us. You _know_ she chases me out of the kitchens every time she sees me."

"I know she _used_ to - "Grubby little boys who dip their fingers into bowls should have them cut off!" - that was quite some time ago. You're really rather tall now, Delita, and not _particularly_ grubby at the moment - I doubt she'd be saying that these days!" She could see his impatience. "All right, I'll go and ask her... Six, not seven? Argath isn't...?"

"No!" He cut her off, his voice rising. "Argath won't be sullying himself, helping us to rescue a girl of such _common blood_ who ought to be _licking his boots_!" His tone made it clear he was quoting the other boy. "We're well rid of that despicable little worm, I can tell you!"

Alma sighed, shook her head and reached out to gently touched one of his fists, which he had unconsciously clenched.

"Hush, you'll wake Dycedarg, and once he's awake, I'll have to go back and get on with my _embroidery_! And try to forget about Argath, he isn't worth a moment of you time, not under these circumstances. I'll go and speak to Cook... but, Delita, I was _serious_ about wanting to come."

"I know you were, and you can't." Was his succinct reply. When she looked mulish, he elaborated.

"It's like what Ramza said last night about it being bad enough that one of you is in danger. I can't stand the thought of what might be happening to Tietra, if you were both in danger..." He shook his head. "Please Alma, just stay here, where you are relatively safe." She looked him full in the face for a moment as if trying to read him, then sighed again.

"All right." Was all she said before she briefly touched his hand again and turned away to head to the kitchens.

Alma slipped out of the room, Delita following a moment later. As he emerged, he heard her speaking, her voice cold.

"No, Argath, you can't go in - he's _sleeping_. He needs rest - medics' orders." She crossed her arms across her chest, defensively and took a step back. Delita could easily see that Argath had been standing far too close for her comfort.

Argath nodded at Alma, and opened his mouth to speak, until he saw Delita. Coming up behind Alma, Delita laid his hands lightly on her shoulders. It was meant as nothing more than a supportive, protective gesture, but from the derisive, knowing expression on Argath's face, he took it as... something else. Ignoring Argath, other than to give him a short disdainful look, he briefly squeezed Alma's shoulders and told her that he and Ramza would see her again, before they left.

He made sure she was walking away from Argath, towards the kitchens, before he headed in the opposite direction to check on their supplies of Potions and Phoenix Downs. That little scene had added a vague worry for Alma, who was going to be left behind with Argath still in the house, to Delita's already over-burdened mind.

* * *

Author's Note:

Given what Argath is shortly going to do, I'm kind of right there with Ramza on not being able to believe that I didn't let him give Argath the beating he so richly deserves. However, I decided that if Ramza's just seen (and felt) Delita - usually the more cool-headed one - lose it completely, he'd feel the need to make an extra effort to keep himself under control.

I originally intended each of these to be pretty short - when I began to post these, I conceived the idea of them being scenarios that could be read in five minutes during a coffee break, or similar - yet the word-count is gradually creeping up. I'm not sure if I'm happy about that, or not. If anyone reading this feels strongly, that shorter is better than longer, or vice versa, do let me know.


	19. Chapter 19 - Give a Little Whistle

Sorry about the delay in getting this one out. I had it about three-quarters ready a fortnight ago, but I've not been well since then. It's another one that comes immediately after a cut-scene, as you'll see:

* * *

Eastern Mandalia Plains

Ramza called a slightly early halt that evening, knowing everyone was exhausted from having pushed themselves incredibly hard for the last couple of days. They were near to where they had made camp the very first night they had left Gariland for Eagrose - which now seemed a lifetime ago. The boys, falling back on the sense of routine, which allowed them to work without thought, had done their share of camp chores before Delita had suddenly stridden away, without a word, up to a small rise which overlooked the part of the plains that ran to the Magick City.

On top of the raised ground was the derelict remains of a shepherding hut, or perhaps it had been an isolated small-holding, though it was barely more than a couple of low limestone walls, now. With the increase in monstrous, fiend-like beasts that populated these plains, it seemed unlikely that sheep would ever be able to graze here again. Delita had sat on one of the rocks, one knee pulled up to his chest, looking absently at the sky.

Ramza had gone to join him after a minute or two and the four girls kept throwing glances in their direction, watching the two distant boys talking.

"For once, I wish we had run up against a bunch of panthers and goblins on the Plains today." Juliana said with a sigh, "I think it would have done Delita some good to have laid about himself with a sword rather than brooding – even if it just stopped him doing it for a few minutes. Ramza too, I imagine." The three other girls just nodded. Juliana was pacing back and forth next to the fire, clearly itching to go and try to give what comfort she could to Delita.

"I'd leave things to Ramza, Juli." To her surprise it was Sam and who had spoken – she was usually the quietest. "I have cousins who are identical twins and, as inseparable as they are, I swear that they aren't any closer than those two." Samantha gestured at the low hill where the boys were.

Suddenly, a slight breeze blew from the boys' direction and the girls all looked at one another, confused, as a raspy tuneless whistling noise reached their ears.

* * *

Ramza kept whistling on his piece of grass long after he had any desire to continue doing so, simply because he couldn't think of anything to say to Delita that would help. Whatever Delita might say, both boys knew only too well that Tietra, as a prisoner of the Corpse Brigade, would _not _be watching the sunset, like them_. _Prisoners, as a rule, were not allowed the freedom to stroll around contemplating the beauties of nature.

If, when they reached her, the worst that had happened to her was that her hands had been kept bound and she had been drugged into insensibility, as the Marquis Elmdore had been, then both boys knew they would have a lot to be thankful about. Some of the things that might happen to a young female hostage did not bear to be thought about, at all.

Unfortunately, Delita apparently was thinking about them anyway. Ramza heard a hitch in the whistling coming from his friend and then it stopped altogether. Turning to look at him, Ramza saw Delita's brimming eyes overflowing and his shoulders beginning to shake. Delita had always cried silently. Ramza remembered the first time he had seen that, the day Delita and Tietra had come to live at Beoulve Manor, the family's country seat.

In a way, it had been sheer fluke that his mother had been at home that summer, he remembered. She had been unwell herself, though certainly not with the Black Death, in the early part of the campaign season and had come back from the Ordalian border country where she and his father were serving officers – he the general, she content to remain a mere captain in the medical corps.

As the plague had swept the Beoulve lands, as if had with so much of Western Ivalice that summer, his mother had worked herself ragged trying to help where she could. However, she was sensible and would only treat those few who had survived the main illness and were thought to no longer be contagious – no-one knew of a way to treat the illness at its height and, besides that, a dead medic was no good to anyone.

Ramza and Alma had been confined to their country Manor House. It was a huge building, and one which they didn't know well, since the family mostly lived in the Mansion in Eagrose proper. Two children could spend weeks exploring the enormous house, but even so, they had longed for something new to divert their interest.

Though it was not exactly a "diversion", the change in their dull confined lives had come in the shape of Tietra and Delita. Their mother and Ramza and Alma's had grown up on neighbouring farms and had been friends when they were girls. Therefore, when Cyndra Heiral, her husband and their youngest child all died of the Black Death, Lady Merissa had felt she could not abandon the older children to the doubtful care of the already over-burdened parish. Hence, she decided to bring them home to the Manor, with the idea that they would be companions and playmates to her own children, who were much the same age.

When Lord and Lady Beoulve were away with the army, Ramza and Alma would spend a couple of months, over the summer, living on the Lugria farm with their grandparents, while their governess went home to see her family. So they had met Delita and Tietra before, when they two little dark-haired children had been visiting their own grandparents, a couple of summers before the Black Death had hit.

Alma and Tietra had played nicely together from the start - probably helped, in no small part, by the fact that five-year-old Alma had impulsively given the four-year-old Tietra one of her dolls, the first time they had met. That same day, Ramza and Delita, six- and almost-six-years-old, had ended up trying to beat each other black and blue, over something neither had ever been able to remember afterwards, and had come to _loathe_ the very sight of each other, doing everything they could to avoid one another for the remainder of the Heirals' few days at their grandparents' farm.

By the autumn when he was eight, when Delita and Tietra had come to live at the Manor, Ramza's recollection of the other boy had faded from loathing to something between dislike and indifference. However, his mother had warned both of her own children, before she had left in the carriage to collect the little Heirals, that she expected them to be extremely nice to the other two, as their parents had died less than a week before and on top of that, everything at the Manor would be new and strange to them.

It had been later than expected when their mother had arrived back with the other two children. In fact, Ramza and Alma had already been put to bed by their nurse. Ramza, for the first time in his life, was not sharing a room with his sister – of course he was eight_, _that was really too old to share with a _girl_, even Alma. However, that didn't mean he wanted to share with that Delita boy!

He'd been half asleep when his nurse had ushered the other little boy into his room. She'd efficiently stripped him out of his clothes and dressed him in one of Ramza's nightshirts, then briskly tucked him into the bed that had been Alma's until so recently. When Ramza had begun to speak he'd been told firmly to hush and go back to sleep. Nurse was kindly in general but rather brusque and was a complete martinet when it came to bedtimes.

After she had left Ramza had lain still and quiet for a couple of minutes until he heard movement in the bed across from him. He looked over. Delita was sitting in the bed now with his knees pulled tightly to his chest, his face resting on them. Ramza saw his shoulders were shaking - he was crying silently.

Just as he had eight years ago, on that night, Ramza went to sit next to Delita, this time on a rock rather than his bed, and laid a hand flat on the other boy's upper back. One of Delita's foibles was that he didn't like people – anyone but Tietra – to offer him too much comfort when he was crying, but from years of experience, growing up, Ramza knew that this simple touch would be acceptable.

"I just wish I knew that she was all right." Delita's voice was a choked whisper.

Since that was his own main wish right now, Ramza had no words of comfort that wouldn't be blatantly empty and trite, so instead he just gently patted the other boy's back a couple of times, staring up at the now darkening sky.

Eight years ago Delita's only words had been a choked whisper as well, though that had been a mournful "Ah want me mam!" Ramza hadn't known what to say then either. Saying that they would go and find his own mother hadn't seemed quite the right thing, Delita barely knew her, so he had made the only suggestion that had presented itself to his mind.

"Shall we go and find your sister?" He'd asked tentatively.

The other boy had nodded, face still buried against his knees, so Ramza had taken one of his hands and drawn him from the bed and out of the room. Ramza had led him, still weeping softly, into the girls' bedroom.

Instead of the small beds that the boys' room had, the girls had one large bed. Ramza didn't know why they didn't each have their own, at the time, though now he knew that high-born girls would share a bed with another girl or woman until they were married, as it was supposed to guarantee their chastity for their future husband. It was even done that way at the Akademy. Even after they had moved out of the nurseries, the two girls had continued to share a suite of rooms and a bed. It was really little wonder that, even though they were so very different in personality, Alma and Tietra were so very close – they usually spent every minute of every day and every night together.

The following morning, Nurse had found the boys' beds empty and all four of them in the girls' big bed, piled together haphazardly, rather like a litter of sleeping kittens. She hadn't been too pleased with them. After Lady Merissa had spoken sternly to her, though, the four of them had been allowed to pile into the big bed this way any time that either Tietra or Delita had become particularly upset about their family around bedtime over the next few months, as it seemed to help.

Ramza remembered that in the weeks following the death of his own mother, a little over two years later, the four of them had taken to sometimes sleeping together in the big bed again. At that time, he finally understood why it had nearly always been when they were getting ready for bed that the other two had become so upset about their parents' deaths. When you were tired at the end of the day, but you weren't yet quite ready to sleep, that tended to be when you had time to think about things and the people you had lost. It was still often as he was lying in bed at night that his thoughts would stray to his parents, though the grief had subsided to a point where he seldom felt it as more than a dull ache.

Gods! He had to stop thinking about death and grief – that was not a good thing to do in these circumstances. Tietra was not dead, they were going to rescue her and everything was going to be fine! Since Delita had fallen to pieces this evening, he could not afford to. Somehow, that was how this sort of thing worked between them.

* * *

Author's Note:

A very brief note, just to ask if anyone reading this can see any special significance to the whistling on grass theme? I just don't get why they would have chosen that to tie various cut-scenes together.

As an aside, I don't get how they all do it one-handed, when I was a kid we used to do that by sandwiching a piece of grass between our thumbs and blowing through them. Totally irrelevant, I know, but never mind...


End file.
